Interlude 124: A Wise Man Thinks of Every Possibility (II)

His face was stained with blood, as were his braids. His bright blond hair was now almost entirely red with blood.

He spoke neither High Gothic nor Low Gothic, but Juvjk, an ancient language originating from Fenris. His words sounded like a roar, and the Space Wolves naturally responded with roars of their own.

A Space Wolves swiftly brought down his knife, and blood splattered out. The dead creature didn't resemble a human at all; flesh and blood clung to the twisted bones like paste.

It howled while it was alive, and its wailing intensified after it died. Amidst the unbearable, viscous sounds, it gradually transformed into a pool of truly melted flesh and blood.

The blade's work was finished; the Phosphex flames followed.

Russ kept watching.

Just minutes—or rather, eleven minutes ago—this pool of flesh and blood being destroyed was merely Kasper Ansbach Hauser, or perhaps Ahmed Ibn Russ.

He was the bard of the 3rd Company in the Space Wolves, and also a "jinx" that fell from the sky. Before this, he was the founder of the Terran Historical Research Society and a highly respected scholar.

But he was still an unwitting spy, manipulated by psychic magic, attempting to infiltrate the wolf pack. Russ had discovered this long ago, and he certainly had reason to kill this mortal outright, but he didn't.

Because this mortal was completely unaware of his own situation, he was unaware that he was being manipulated by psychic energy.

For a Fenrisian, killing an enemy is one thing; killing a Deceit person who knows nothing is quite another.

But whatever the specifics, now he was just a bloody mess of flesh. He was dead, his lifeline severed, because he had stepped onto Prospero's Tizca —a curse, or something similar, had struck him.

The Rune Priest were unaware; in fact, even Russ himself was oblivious. 🍪😝 ☮♜ The Space Wolves knew nothing of this, simply watching their poet die in excruciating fleshly distortion.

"May he rest in peace," Russ thought.

He smiled, his fangs peeking out from behind his pale lips. He glanced up at his pack, who were also silently watching their alpha wolf.

"Logically, we should Vengeance him," Russ said thoughtfully, his voice rough. "But look at all this."

He raised his hand and pointed to the city below the mountain peak, engulfed in flames. Before the wolves even began their attack, the people of Prospero themselves were plunged into a strange turmoil.

More importantly, they didn't see a single Thousand Sons.

There were only civilians, civilians running everywhere. They were being trampled, or trampling others, and corpses littered the streets. The grotesque, fleshy monsters were everywhere, wandering aimlessly.

They don't crave flesh or blood, nor do they need to kill, but their mere existence can engulf the world in flames. No one attacks them; even armed soldiers will drop their weapons and scream as they flee before them.

Or perhaps, in a tremor, they transform into monsters just like them.

Russ slowly raised his head and glanced at the sky over Prospero. The sky was overcast and gray, as if lightning was about to strike.

He gave a strange laugh, and the wolf pack, as if receiving a signal, immediately sprang into action, swarming out and rushing towards the burning city.

--

"What have you done?!" Magnus demanded furiously.

He couldn't wait for an answer, so he began to gather the answers himself. While holding onto Ahzek Ahriman, he observed the scene inside the cave.

The sight he saw fueled his rage even more, for everywhere lay dead servants, dressed in white robes, clearly chosen for their service. They held crystals in their hands, their bodies withered like dried corpses from which all moisture had evaporated.

A rough estimate puts the number at least a thousand. Recalling the deep blue patterns he'd seen while kneeling on the ground, Magnus immediately came to an answer.

"What magic did you use, Ahzek Ahriman?" Magnus took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He asked the question quickly, and Ahzek Ahriman struggled to gain a little strength to breathe.

He concealed his dissatisfaction and astonishment within his compliance, which Magnus could see, but he had no time to argue with Ahzek Ahriman about these things. He lowered his hand to allow Ahzek Ahriman to land.

"It's a spell I created myself, Primarch," Ahzek Ahriman replied with a hint of pride. "It can harness the power of the Great Ocean, traverse galaxies, and rescue a person from prison—"

"--Across the sea of stars?" Magnus interrupted him, asking again.

Ahzek Ahriman noticed that his Primarch's eyes looked very unfamiliar. There was no thirst for knowledge, nor any praise or pride in them. He couldn't help but become somewhat dazed, but still nodded and answered Magnus's question.

"What makes you think you can do this?" The Crimson King asked, his eyes closed, his voice filled with helplessness and heartache.

It was only then that Ahzek Ahriman realized his Primarch now possessed two eyes. He took a step back in shock, a multitude of speculations forming in his mind.

But Magnus didn't give him a chance to think further; he reached out and grabbed Ahzek Ahriman again, asking in a low voice.

"What price did you pay, Ahzek Ahriman?"

He stared intently at one of his finest sons and immediately grasped the key point.

"With just these servants and their lives, what makes this spell effective? What did you make a deal with in this Great Ocean?"

"I," Ahzek Ahriman began hesitantly—he tried to refuse, but he couldn't; he couldn't refuse any of the Primarch's demands.

But his expression turned somewhat gloomy; clearly, the current situation was completely different from what he had anticipated.

He had expected to receive praise, even gratitude, from the Primarch. Just minutes before, he had been full of anticipation, thinking he would become the hero who saved Magnus, the Thousand Sons, and Prospero.

Ahzek Ahriman took a deep breath and said, "I spent a long time wandering the Great Ocean, Primarch. I found the friendly entity that made the deal with you back then. It was it that gave me power, and I paid for it."

A deafening buzzing sound filled Magnus's mind, so intense that he could no longer hear the rest of Ahzek Ahriman's sentence.

"That's it," he thought, then immediately overturned that conclusion.

No, there must be some other solution, there must be.

He let go, stumbled back a few steps, then turned around and started running wildly.

He traveled along several hidden and winding roads, and many Thousand Sons watched with surprise and joy as the Primarch returned. Most of them were bound to the walls or the ground by some kind of deep blue crystal, their exposed faces like melting wax figures.

Magnus forced himself to ignore the horrific sight and simply continued running forward. He could have easily used his psionic powers to reach the ground, but he didn't.

The Crimson King knew very well that at this moment, the power surging within him was not his own.

Everything has its price, Magnus the Emperor's voice echoed in his ears. You must remember this, especially when you are dealing with the Warp.

Yes, I remember, Father.

A burst of light swept in, and he finally rushed out of the reflective cave.

The air belonging to Prospero filled his nostrils, and the thick smell of blood overwhelmed him.

Magnus stared in anguish as the once bustling Plaza of the Hidden Eye was now filled with wandering, mutated monsters of flesh and blood. Not far away, on the Cydonian Avenue, a group of screaming civilians scattered and fled irrationally.

A faint, almost imperceptible chuckle reached his ears.

The Crimson King gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, deciding to stop looking. He needed to stay rational; he couldn't bear to watch any longer. Then, Ahzek Ahriman's voice came from behind him.

"Primarch? What do you want to do?"

His voice was full of anxiety and fear, and a hint of barely perceptible doubt.

Magnus suddenly flew into a rage—doubt? Doubt? You doubt me?

But he quickly regained his senses; in fact, he was jolted awake.

He immediately realized how irrational his emotions were, Magnus quickly ordered himself to remain calm. He turned to look at his offspring, but his words still carried a hint of reproach.

Why don't you send more people to help the residents?

Ahzek Ahriman looked at him strangely, and after a long while, he answered his question.

"We're gone, Primarch. Only a dozen or so of us remain scattered throughout Prospero; most of the others have already—"

He gave a sudden, bittersweet smile.

"--I think you've seen what they look like, but that's not important, Primarch, after all, you've returned."

Before Magnus could answer, Ahzek Ahriman continued speaking, even bowing his proud head deeply.

"You sent a coded message in the communications, asking me to find a way to bring you back so that the Legion could be saved. Now I have done it, Primarch, and you too can carry out the work of salvation!"

His voice was so sincere and heartfelt, but Magnus just stared at him expressionlessly, his face devoid of any "breath of life," only filled with despairing stillness and numbness.

Ahzek Ahriman received no answer, so he looked up at his Primarch. But all he saw was Magnus swaying and turning away, not the resolute face of the Savior.

"The Primarch?!" Ahzek Ahriman shouted.

"The person you were communicating with wasn't me," Magnus replied in a low voice. "I never conveyed any codes, Ahzek Ahriman, and you too. You made a deal with that thing in the Great Ocean, didn't you?"

He stopped and turned around.

"What did you trade?" he asked in a low voice.

Ahzek Ahriman did not answer; he looked extremely shocked, as if he had been betrayed.

Unseen by them, a pack of wolves was charging towards them.

There's also a 4K chapter.