The Game Is Set

Terra, Royal Palace.

The gate opened as the Master of the Sigil approached, the ancient wood swirling to reveal a small anteroom. It wasn't far from the grand entrance to the Imperium Dungeons.

He stepped across the threshold and waved, and the branding in the wall lamps on the surrounding walls ignited, illuminating everything in the small room.

There was nothing here except a round table and two high-backed chairs facing each other.

On the table is an octagonal granite and white marble slab, next to a light-colored wooden box, and in this geometric space are twenty chess pieces.

Malcador leaned his scepter against the back of his chair, then sat down, carefully examining the board of twenty gray pieces, lost in thought. He then lowered his head and picked up the crystal cards placed in the center of the table—they were also blank, a fact Malcador was well aware of.

Malcador put the card back, and just as he looked up, a figure sat down opposite him.

He was very tall, with a bright red cloak and hood hanging over his shoulders.

Let's begin.

He arranged the chess pieces with his rough, powerful hands.

They take turns activating each piece, scattering them in the true starting positions designated on the cards. Once everything is in place and each side has received ten figurines, the game solemnly begins.

"What has happened in the past cannot be changed," he said solemnly, seemingly puzzled by Malcador's insistence on playing it out again. "We've done it hundreds of times."

The result was exactly the same as in the past.

Malcador's offensive was swift and fierce. With the help of the Great Tempest card, he was able to preemptively isolate the opponent's pieces in this battle, as well as in countless previous battles, creating local situations where he outnumbered the opponent.

They have gained every advantage and initiative.

The game continued as it had always been.

Malcador tried to change the course of his moves, attempting to reclaim the pieces that had previously blocked him, but each time his opponent flipped a card or made a cunning next move, the pieces returned to the positions they had occupied many times before.

As the game progressed, even when his side was almost about to deliver the decisive blow to secure victory, his opponent always managed to slip away from his seemingly invincible hand through various unexpected means.

Malcador now has no choice but to attack.

Despite having the initiative and the advantage in attack, he now only had one option left: to attack.

The other party put pressure on him accordingly.

"I'll win in the next step."

The man announced, throwing the word "Salvation" in front of Malcador. He looked at the portrait painted on the colored crystal, and there was no doubt that it was Roboute Guilliman.

"But that's in the next round."

Distant water cannot quench immediate thirst; the outcome of the entire battle will be decided in this single round.

"We have conducted this kind of simulation many times, and the outcome is always the same."

"But I still don't understand—what is the point of all this?"

Malcador suppressed his urge to pick up a chess piece and asked him a question.

Their game simulations have been performed countless times, and they have played countless games together.

It seems that he had long anticipated the final battle between the two sides, and judging from the countless changes in the game, he had foreseen the occurrence of the Horus Heresy.

However, he did not nip all the sparks of rebellion in the bud, thus minimizing the possibility of a Horus Heresy from the outset.

Why didn't you do that?

"Because," he replied, seemingly having anticipated Malcador's question, "Because all of this was bound to happen."

"Because... it's an inevitable fate that half of the Primarch must join the rebels?"

Malcador had a vague premonition of this.

It was as if everything was already decided from the very beginning, the moment the Primarch Project was implemented: half of the Primarch would inevitably stand against the Master of Mankind and become an inevitable obstacle to the future of the Imperium of Man.

No matter how hard you struggle, it won't make a difference, because that's the fate of humanity.

His fate.

"No, it's not such a metaphysical concept."

He sighed, as if he wanted to say a lot, but then stopped himself from expressing himself.

"Just like Magnus's passionate speech at the Council of Nicaea," he said, "Can you feel his confidence and enthusiasm, just as we did when we first embarked on our exploration of the Warp with such hope?"

"I"

"There is no need to be ashamed of this, Master of the Sigil."

"People always stumble in the same places, no matter how many lessons have been learned or how many admonitions and warnings have been given."

"The biggest lesson we, you, me, Magnus and Lorgar, and many others have learned in this world is that we never learn from the past."

What has been will be again;

What has been done will be done again.

Malcador seemed to understand what the other person was saying.

He struggled to lift the chess piece in his hand, and then...

But as he turned his attention back to placing the piece on the board that could checkmate his opponent, another piece occupied the space he was about to capture.

A court jester (fool).

The court jester's role was precisely to remind the king and queen that they were not immortal, to tell them they were not above ordinary people. In later interpretations, their existence was to speak the truth to power and to rebel against authority.

Most importantly—exposing tyranny.

"Hope remains."

Malcador choked up at that moment, unable to express himself. And opposite him, the man, whose face rarely showed a smile, finally smiled again.

"Who are you speaking to, sir?"

A woman's voice struck the windowpane like a hammer blow, shattering the wall of concentration that Malcador had erected around himself. He looked toward the door with a start, where an official stood, her fingers crumpling her white robe into a ball, staring at him fearfully.

How long have you been here?

"A few minutes, sir," the official told him. "The Astropath sent me to deliver a message."

"Then why were you staring at me like that? What did you see?"

"You, sir, are playing chess with yourself. You flip the cards, move the pieces, your face contorted." She gripped her robe tighter, her eyes fixed on the table.

Malcardo hesitated, following her gaze to the pieces placed at the endgame—the spot where the jester had been was now occupied by another piece, uniquely golden, shaped like a crown.

Next to it was the last crystal card—its image was an eagle tearing open a viper's throat.

With trembling fingers, Malcador slowly picked up the card.

Malcador's fingers could feel that the card was thicker than before.

He tried rubbing the card with his hand for a while until he shifted it and revealed the last card face down.

Malcador examined the card closely with his aged and wrinkled face, as if it had never appeared in the game.

[World]

Its design is a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Istvan III.

Choral City.

"Hurry! Hurry!"

The moment the Stormbird landed, Kasgar no longer cared about the etiquette of the Sons of the Emperor or the fixed routines of communication between legions.

The instant he opened the hatch, he sped toward the room in the center of Ascension City where Horus was being performed a magical ritual.

"Stop him!"

Seeing Kasgar approach Horus, who was undergoing "treatment," at lightning speed, Abaddon, who was guarding the door for him, rushed to meet him in a moment of panic.

The two sides met unexpectedly and were evenly matched.

Kasgar took a few steps back, while Abaddon braced his heel against the marble pillar of the castle.

"Kasgar, the Council of Four Kings is still discussing your request!"

"This is not a place you should trespass into!"

"Get out of the way, Abaddon!" Kasgar retorted. "Haven't you realized it yet? Ahriman deceived you with your trust, and he deceived all of you!"

"He is defiling your most beloved Horus with evil witchcraft!"

"This is not a decision for you to make!"

Abaddon roared, his eyes bloodshot, and stood in front of Kasgar, refusing to let him advance an inch.

(It seems there was no rebuttal to the fact that Horus is their favorite)

"Gentlemen, please pause your fighting for now. We are still discussing your request," Torgaddon said with a smile, stepping in to smooth things over and separating the two who had been at each other's throats. "Horus's condition is critical, but Ahriman has also emphasized that no one is allowed to enter during his treatment."

"For the sake of Lord Horus's safety, we must be extremely cautious."

He turned to the members of the Council of Four Kings around him and said, "Well then, since everyone in the Council of Four Kings is here, why don't we vote here?"

"The Kasgar from the Emperor's Children Legion believe that the sorcery performed by Ahriman is untrustworthy and is aimed at destroying Lord Horus. What are your thoughts on this accusation?"

"I support Kasgar's view. I don't really trust Ahriman either; his knowledge of Lord Horus's witchcraft rituals is completely unlike what a normal healing method should have."

"We should not place our hopes on witchcraft."

The speaker was Garviel Loken, who succeeded Cyranus, the leader of the Lunar Wolves Council of Four Kings, after Sanguinius's fall, becoming the Council of Four Kings's newest member.

"To be honest, that's what I think too, Garviel."

Torgaddon nodded slightly. "Abaddon, we were too hasty in believing Ahriman's decision. Moreover, the mysterious death of Sanguinius seems very likely to be related to Ahriman."

"Then what do you suggest we do? We're just supposed to watch Horus die, are we?" Abaddon said through gritted teeth. "We only have one chance. We must make Ahriman complete his ritual, no matter what!"

Abaddon cast his vote against it—the vote now stands at 2 to 1 in the Council of Four Kings.

"What do you say, Ashmand?" Abaddon glared at the last member of the Council of Four Kings — Space Marine bore a striking resemblance to Horus, Little Horus., who seemed somewhat hesitant at this moment.

"I actually think that interrupting the ceremony midway would only make things worse."

But in the end, he sided with Abaddon – the vote was tied at two to two, resulting in a stalemate.

When the Council of Four Kings is tied, Horus Shepherd of Wolves, is naturally the one to make the final decision.

But now Horus is seriously injured and in a coma. Previously, Abaddon insisted on having Ahriman perform the ritual to revive Horus, despite opposition from the Abaddon. And now—

"Now, everything is in my hands."

Just as Kasgar was running at the front, Fulgrim led the Sons of the Emperor's personal guard into the central hall of the Holy Song City.

As the Imperium Warmaster, Fulgrim currently has the authority to command all Legion members.

Even the Lunar Wolves is no exception.

Using Psychic Power rituals after the Nikaea ban was issued was a major taboo, let alone by the remnants of the original Thousand Sons.

Those who repeatedly refuse to learn their lesson must be dealt with severely!

"What? Izekiel Abaddon, are you going to continue defying the orders of the Imperium Warmaster?"

The other party still insisted on blocking Kasgar's way. Fulgrim gently placed one hand on Kasgar's shoulder and said in a deep voice.

"Snort."

Abaddon reluctantly took a step forward, his eyes still as fierce as before. "I hope you can keep your promise, Mr. Sherlock."

Snap!

Marble fragments, along with the shattering of the metal casing, scattered and flew everywhere, adding new dust to the witchcraft ritual within this airtight chamber.

With the backing of the title of Imperium Warmaster, Kasgar, no longer holding back, broke down the door.

The instant the gate was broken, endless flames surged forth, rushing towards both Ahriman, who was concentrating on completing the mission of the Four Gods, and Horus was lying heavily wounded on the ground.

Immediately following was Kasgar himself, who charged in like a cannonball.

He drew his [Zhanli] sword and aimed it directly at Ahriman, who was casting a spell in the corner!

Middle!

The Power Sword gleamed with a ghostly blue light; Kasgar's attack showed no mercy. As members of the strongest Space Marine, both Ahriman and Kasgar were formidable fighters.

—Kasgar has a shameless fire Magic Immunity.

With near-complete immunity to Psychic Power, even with his immense magical power, Professor A couldn't have managed to turn the tables on Kasgar in such a confined space.

Escape!

After the door was broken, he hesitated for a moment before choosing this option.

Just as the sword in Kasgar's hand was about to strike him, a strange blue Psychic Power surged, and Ahriman vanished from his spot.

Kasgar's Power Sword, propelled by inertia, pierced the stone wall behind Ahriman, sending up another shower of sand and gravel.

The situation is urgent; we cannot pursue them.

Suppressing the urge to kill Ahriman, Kasgar turned his head back to Horus, who was lying in the center of the magic circle.

It seemed that on his chest, where the bandage was wrapped, there was an extremely long wound that was constantly corroding his body and soul.

"Hold on, Horus!"

"I'm coming to save you!"

Kasgar called out softly, and the golden-red flames in his hand flared up again. He frowned with difficulty and pressed down hard on Horus on the ground.

The toxins were spreading from the wound to every corner of his body.

Moreover, Ahriman's damned spells accelerated this process, making Kasgar even more worried about Horus's current state—not only was his body marinated in the toxins of Chaos, but his soul had also been shattered into pieces by those damned Chaos Gods.

His current state can only be described as utter chaos.

Horus, in such a dilapidated state, has managed to survive until now entirely thanks to his unwavering and steadfast adherence to the [Thirty-and- Centaur gold ring]!

No matter how much you try to entice him, you cannot break through Horus's heart, not even the last line of defense in his broken heart!

Even the Four Gods broke through their defenses.

Therefore, they chose to seek the corruption of normal Angel in the Cygnus System —after all, Angel are normal people, which is countless times better than Horus.

What a "great" spirit this is!

Kasgar: "."

He had never thought of it, nor had he considered it.

The final result of his arrival in this world and his constant travels during the Great Crusade over hundreds of years—

Other aspects remained largely unchanged.

The only thing that can determine the fate of everything, the only thing that can change the future of humanity, is not some grand and epic final war.

And the unexpected [Centaur gold ring].

Who could have predicted this?

Kasgar smiled wryly as he slowly used the Gold-Red Flame in his hand to heal Horus's wounds.

Flames approached the wound left by the ritual dagger.

Kasgar believed that, without the intervention of the Four Gods, he would soon be able to give Horus—

Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs".

Just as Kasgar was controlling the flames to move towards the poison, the flames in his hands were suddenly met with a strong counterattack from the opponent, which seemed to have a mind of its own.

Four strange sensations and emotional turmoil surged into Kasgar's mind the moment he was about to come into contact with the toxin.

It seems that the current situation of Chaos is so urgent that the Four Gods seem to have gone to great lengths to help Horus.

The original single Nurgle poison has now been upgraded to a mixed poison of the Four Gods, all in order to completely corrupt Horus into the chosen one of the Four Gods, even when Horus is only thinking about the [Centaur gold ring].

Especially after the Angel were successfully rescued by Kasgar in the Cygnus System, they had to hold onto Horus, the last chosen one of the Four Gods.

—If even Horus won't work, then they'll have to choose Abaddon, the one with the pointed head!

Chaos Warmaster!

The Four Gods' Choice!

Invincible

A-Barton will face the Emperor aboard the Vengeful Spirit!

The Angel, who teleported to the other's face a step ahead. ".?"

—Abaddon was reduced to a bloody mist.

The Horus Heresy ended.

No way.

The disparity in strength was simply too great, forcing the Four Gods to abandon Horus, the shrewd and powerful war master.

As Kasgar battled back and forth with the Four Gods' Poison, fine beads of sweat gradually appeared on his forehead. The pale complexion caused by the exhaustion of his Psychic Power made it impossible for Kasgar to continue.

No matter how powerful his Psychic Flame were, they were still beyond what Kasgar his own strength in the face of the unreasonable situation of the Four Gods forcibly imbuing him with their power.

Moreover, even if the poison in his body could be cured, the shattering of his soul is an area that Kasgar cannot currently reach, Horus would still be unable to wake up.

"Cough—cough cough!"

In the end, with Lunar Wolves and the Sons of the Emperor anxiously waiting, Kasgar could only helplessly withdraw his flames and collapse wearily to the side.

"You! You bastard! You promised you would succeed!"

Abaddon rushed forward, grabbed Kasgar's armor, and lifted him up from the ground.

His last glimmer of hope was extinguished as the Kasgar's Flame were withdrawn.

Ahriman is now missing, and the treatment with Kasgar is ineffective!

Horus Horus is completely beyond saving!

"Wait, it's not over yet. Primarch, Primarch isn't dead yet, what's the rush?"

"What's the rush?" Abaddon was furious, raising his fist to punch Kasgar in the face. "Do you think you can save his life?!"

Of course.

What should I do Primarch is seriously injured?

For something like this, you should definitely ask a professional and relevant legion.

Whose Primarch always falls asleep as soon as their head hits the pillow?

Whose Primarch always needs a stretcher team?

Whose Primarch always gets defeated in one-on-one battles?

—Guilliman, needless to say!

So how did the Ultramarines solve this problem?

—A Stasis Field!

What can we do?

Are the Stasis Field in your legion just for show?

"Now, immediately place Horus in Stasis Field and wait for the Warp Storm to subside before returning to Terra together."

It's such a simple thing.

In the original timeline, Guilliman was smeared with Slaanesh poison on his neck, but he still lay in Stasis Field for ten thousand years and was perfectly fine, wasn't he?

Why is it that, in the same situation of Primarch injury, poisoning, and unconsciousness, the Ultramarines could come up with a solution, while the hundreds of thousands of Space Marine, along with countless Adeptus Mechanicus sages and mortal officers of the Lunar Wolves, couldn't come up with a single one?

Ah?

This has always been the biggest question Kasgar.

When Horus was assassinated, why didn't they put him in Stasis Field and send him back to Terra to seek treatment from the Emperor?

Yes.

Why?

"Stasis Field"

Abaddon murmured softly.

"Abaddon, why didn't you choose to place Horus in Stasis Field?"

Abaddon clenched his fists, his face turning red.

In the end, all I could say was in a low voice.

"I! I didn't think of that!"

Ha ha ha ha!

I didn't expect it to be true!

For a moment, the entire city of Holy Song was filled with a joyful atmosphere.

Following Kasgar's advice, Abaddon, filled with shame, had the Gatling carry Horus into the Stasis Field.

If all goes well, they only need to wait for the future Warp Storm to subside, and the two legions trapped here will successfully return to Terra.

"The Warp Storm shows no signs of abating."

What should we do then?

What else can we do but wait?

"This is normal; there's no need to report on the Warp Storm every moment."

"My lord, that's not what I meant!" The Astropath seemed a little anxious. "It is that we observed a fleet whose navigation was completely unaffected by the Warp Storm."

"What!?"

Unaffected by Warp Storm, that is—

That's right.

The fleet from the Iron Hands is steadily approaching their Isstvan System.