Interlude: A Wise Man Thinks a Thousand Thoughts (I)

Magnus realized this very clearly - he could see it.🐉🐸 ➅❾ⓈⓗỮ 🐼💙

But is this a good thing? No, absolutely not. If he could, he would rather remain completely blind so he wouldn't have to see this scene before him.

But that thing was forcing him to look.

Every death, every burning. Bullets whistled, artillery roared, and sirens blared throughout the city, as countless people perished in the Space Wolves pack.

Magnus tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't. His eyes didn't belong to him; they had been taken from him many years ago.

At this moment, he felt as if he were trapped in a cage—his physical body was this cage, and every tiny part, from his bones to his nerves, no longer belonged to him. Even the deepest memories and thoughts in his heart were being spoken to by a voice.

The voice spoke of his inner journey, his words, his thoughts, yet the tone was incredibly gentle, like the rustling of a feather.

That wasn't his voice.

He said, "I still can't understand what Father is doing, but I understand part of it. I finally understand what I was trading with back then. It took one of my eyes, but that eye was just the price I had to pay to communicate with it."

"My remaining eye was the core of the deal. For decades afterward, I was merely a window through which it observed humanity."

"Realizing this sent chills down my spine, but what could I do at the time? I was still blind; what I saw, my resolve, my pride, even my thirst for knowledge were just things it threw at me."

Magnus listened to these words, these voices of his own heart spoken in the voices of others, he slowly took off his sunglasses.

This was a gift from Malcador, given to Magnus by the Sigillites when he first returned to Terra. He was initially reluctant to accept it, until Malcador confided some of his innermost thoughts to him.

As Magnus reflected on this, two impulses completely contrary to his initial emotions—remorse and anger—immediately arose, for he realized the implications of his recollection. 💞💣 ♠🐟

Sure enough, the voice rang out again.

"Malcador gave me a pair of sunglasses. At first, I thought he was insulting me, until he told me some ancient history. Indeed, as he said, there is nothing wrong with pursuing knowledge; curiosity is one of the human traits."

"But the greatness of humankind lies in restraining our instincts. We are animals, that's true, but our willpower is enough to allow us to defy our natural impulses and achieve greatness."

"What puzzles me is that I understand and comprehend all these words, yet I used to dismiss them with disdain. This is not something I would do. What happened back then to make me so extreme?"

After uttering the last word, the thing burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Laughter echoed in Magnus's ears. The Crimson King gritted his teeth and put his sunglasses back in his jacket pocket.

He raised his hand and touched his eyes, wanting to know if the area beneath his eyelids was shriveled. The thing granted his every move, allowing him to touch his eyelids—and amidst the stinging pain, Magnus could clearly see his fingers.

His eyes were back, lost and regained, his sight restored—a wonderful thing. But for Magnus, it was a nightmare.

"This is not a nightmare, Magnus," He replied gently. "This is exactly what is happening on Prospero, the Space Wolves have broken free, and slaughter follows. Your people are bleeding, your homeland is burning—and who is responsible for this?"

A brilliant Blue Radiance flashed and disappeared in an instant, gushing forth from Magnus's fingertips. He immediately realized what it was and tried desperately to stop it, but he couldn't move even a single finger.

This time, the cage's owner did not hand him the key again, and what happened next can only be described as a natural consequence: the powerful sense of fullness that had been absent for four years returned; his body was no longer empty, and even his breath carried dissipated spiritual energy.

A feeling arose in Magnus's heart. That feeling was called pride, and it was called omnipotence.

But he had already learned humility.

"No, you are still arrogant." He smiled. "Don't Deceit yourself; your so-called humility is merely a helpless act of having to restrain your claws."

"Your father bound you, betrayed you, and forced you away from your own talents. You call the pitiful psychic abilities you've possessed over the past four years humility?"

"At least they are my psionic powers," Magnus replied through gritted teeth.

He understood that this still came from His permission, but he didn't care.

The hardships and bitterness of the past four years flooded his mind, and every sleepless night flashed before his eyes. The Emperor did not hide anything, stating frankly that he had stripped Magnus of his talent. Magnus did not understand this, but he did not harbor much resentment.

Because, after returning to Terra, the Emperor had a long, all-night conversation with him. The once cold-hearted Master of Mankind was now willing to stand shoulder to shoulder with him under the Terra night sky, describing the results of his work and explaining why he had returned to Terra.

He even showed Magnus a portion of his work—what a level of trust that was!

So the Crimson King knew that his father had neither betrayed him nor looked down on him in any way. Then, what could have driven his father, under the starry sky that day, to commit such a cruel act as stripping his son of his talent?

Magnus found the answer on his own; he found it in the Imperial Palace's library. The uneven writing on the parchment scrolls conveyed to him one terrifying truth after another, filled with blood and tears, through his fingertips.

A self-righteous wise man, a scholar eager for knowledge, an old man seeking truth.

Everyone has encountered Him, or at least glimpsed Him. He exists in books, in language, and in the knowledge of making tables and chairs, Burning Fire, and cooking food. He represents progress, civilization, and wisdom.

He is--

Magnus whispered His name.

" --Tzeentch."

"You got it right," Tzeentch said. "Would you like a reward?"

Magnus had no right to refuse, and the reward arrived as promised.

A grinning butcher's face appeared before him. The psychic Radiance gradually faded, and the alpha wolf Leman Russ Russ laughed as he swung his sword down. Magnus tried to dodge, but the sword pierced straight through his chest without even touching his body.

The spinning saw teeth greedily penetrated a body as Leman Russ Russ began sawing a red- Power Armour Astartes of mixed metal flying alongside blood, flesh, and bone fragments.

Leman Russ Russ could have killed him outright, but he kept applying force until he completely sawed through Thousand Sons's body. The Space Wolves howled excitedly around him, cheering on his slaughter.

"Kill them all!" the wolves howled. "Kill all of Magnus's foolish offspring!"

"Do you see that?" Tzeentch asked silently. "He's slaughtering your legion with glee. It's terrifying. Aren't you brothers?"

Oh, right, although Leman Russ Russ is the alpha wolf, he also listens to one person—no, no, actually, he only listens to that person.

He was the alpha wolf, but he was also a dog loyal to its master. So, who was this person, Magnus? Who was that enormous Shadow standing in the wake of Leman Russ Russ's carnage?

It looks like he's wearing a crown.

Magnus collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, fear beginning to creep into his heart. Nevertheless, he managed to maintain his composure.

Then, he began to do what he did best—think.

I am a prisoner once again. In the past, He could already veil me, blinding me and turning me into a paranoid fool. And now?

I have no power to resist whatever He wants to do. He could simply turn me into a puppet, instead of doing this, recounting my memories and showing me scenes that are neither real nor imagined.

A flash of inspiration struck Magnus.

"You can't make me submit directly; you can only deceive me," he said.

The Crimson King's tone was not a question, but a firm affirmation. He was simply stating a theory with unwavering confidence, just as he had once confidently addressed the Thousand Sons.

Tzeentch chuckled softly.

"Yes, it's a pity I can't stop you from thinking, Magnus. I would even commend you; the flashes of inspiration that everyone displays while thinking are my joy, and I admire the way you think."

"So, you've succeeded. You've successfully deciphered my intentions, Great Lord Prospero —but I want to ask you one question: why did you rebel?"

As He smiled and uttered His last words, Magnus raised His hands once more, and the light of psychic energy shone forth again. The massacre by Leman Russ Russ and the burning by Prospero vanished in an instant, turning into invisible dust.

The light continued to condense, constructing a portal in the air. The stiff body began to move on its own, taking a step forward, followed by a strong sense of weightlessness and tearing.

Stars fell, stretched, were born, and died within sight—times unimaginable to ordinary people passed in the blink of an eye, and Magnus didn't even realize he was screaming.

He didn't know how much time had passed—a year, or ten thousand years—but he finally returned to normal. Opening his eyes, he found himself kneeling on the ground, soaking wet.

Beneath his knees was rock, and fading dark blue veins—a chill ran down Magnus's spine. Tzeentch, meanwhile, opened the cage door himself, granting him temporary freedom.

He blinked hard and saw light sources and white stone slabs all around him. There was also a person, a person walking towards him, wearing dark red steel boots.

Ahzek Ahriman cried out in ecstasy, "Primarch!"

Magnus froze for a few seconds, then furiously raised his head.

"What have you done?!" he roared hoarsely as he lunged at Ahzek Ahriman.

Two more chapters to go, 10,000 words today.