Interlude: The Burning of Prospero

"You must destroy this place. 6̶̛̎̋̔̇ͅ9̴̮̦͖̥͈̳̭̭̋̏͝ŝ̸̢̜̳̱͈̹͓̀̆̔͋͛͜͠ḩ̷̻̩͍̱̗͔̺̏̓͊̀͂̀ͅủ̵̓̓͊̑̂̑" Magnus said.

He held a sharp knife in his hand and pointed it at his eyes.

It was immediately obvious who the knife belonged to, or rather, where it came from.

It had a handle carved from animal bone, and its blade was sharpened to an extremely sharp point and engraved with shimmering runes, not any of the ancient runes of Fenris. It looked like a blood-dripping dagger from Nostramo.

It was originally just a secret idea belonging to the Night Haunter, but it was brought to reality by the Fenrisian. It was forged in the snowstorms of Fenris. It crossed snowstorms and countless light-years to come here, and finally, on this alien land, it was held in the hands of the Crimson King.

"What do you mean?" Leman Russ Russ asked emotionlessly, as if he truly didn't understand.

"Destroy this place, Russ." Magnus looked at the gleaming tip of his blade and spoke. "I can sense Prospero being changed. The power from the Great Ocean is seeping into this place, and I don't know what it will become."

"And what about your people?"

Magnus couldn't help but laugh, his lips curving upwards into a smile, "I no longer have any 'people' to speak of."

He wasn't lying; it was indeed the truth. Looking around, the city streets were burning, towers were crumbling due to uncontrollable forces, Tizca, who had once been elevated by psychic energy, was now facing a slow and painful destruction because of it.

The mutation of flesh is so fair; it treats all Prospero people equally. It doesn't care about your identity, nor whether you've tried to resist.

Go crazy or join in and die—there are no other options.

Russ narrowed his eyes slightly. The bone ornaments on his wild, long hair, tied up according to the Fenrisian's custom, were now clanging against each other in the strong wind.

The black snow continued to fall, and the wolf pack stood behind them, burning the corpses of the dead Thousand Sons with flames. One deep pit after another was dug out, Phosphex flames burned fiercely, the blazing white pillars of fire scorching the corpses and the edges of the pits.

The peculiar smell lingered, causing him to twitch his nose continuously.

"Do you remember Ullanor?" Russ suddenly asked, pointing to the fire pits.

Magnus was taken aback, and the dagger he had been about to plunge into his eye stopped. He didn't think of Ullanor, at least not before Russ mentioned it.

But he did remember Ullanor; everything that happened that day was vivid in his memory.

The Emperor's proclamation, the people's celebration, the yearning for a better future, and the easy evening they had spent together, without strife, without war, without the complexities of a situation requiring repeated consideration.

They played cards, drank, competed, and joked with each other. Without having to think too much, they actually felt a genuine sense of "brotherhood," something that should have been intangible.

Ferrus Manus and Vulkan arm wrestle, Sanguinius and Khan recommend books to each other, and Mortarion and Alpharius battle it out on the chessboard of Regicide.

Surrounded by Kolus Corax, Roboute Guilliman, and Rogal Dorn, the three took turns offering various terrible ideas to the two chess-challenged men, while even the rock-hard brother showed a rare smile at his brothers' performance.

Konrad Curze Curze stood on the terrace, teasing the latecomer Lion Aljonson. The Lion El'Jonson's expression, though tinged with annoyance, also carried a rare hint of ease.

Perturabo stood side by side with the Fulgrim, and the Lord of Olympia, unusually, spoke with others about his views on art—and then, his recollections ended there.

Magnus couldn't continue recalling the events because a shrill chuckle reached his ears.

"Is it too late to reminisce about the past now, Magnus?"

The voice asked a question in a leisurely manner - and then more words, with calmness and appreciation, as if it was giving an evaluation from the perspective of a critic.🔥🍮 💥💚

"However, this memory does have its own value in being cherished. A race, an Imperium, suddenly declined from its peak and fell into endless darkness. The day you remember is the moment it reached its summit, and I think I will often reminisce about it."

Russ heard Magnus suddenly utter a curse—he had never heard the Crimson King curse in such simple, direct, and filthy language.

Then he saw his brother suddenly raise the dagger in his hand and plunge it into his own eyes without hesitation.

Blood splattered, a dagger plunged into his left eye, but Magnus still felt it wasn't enough.

In excruciating pain, he gritted his teeth, slowly twisted his wrist, and pulled out the blade. His eyeballs were pulled out along with Primarch blood-stained dagger, then removed by the Crimson King himself and thrown to the ground.

It lay on the snow, hissing, and soon melted, creating a small crater that disappeared into the black snow pit. White smoke rose and swayed, and intense blue light flashed from the crater.

Magnus bent over, gasping for breath in pain, but trembling again, he raised the dagger in his hand and plunged it into his right eye. Seconds later, his other eye was thrown out, and the blue light rose again.

Holding a sharp knife, the Crimson King slowly knelt on the ground, surrounded by utter darkness.

He could see nothing, yet the pain was ever-present; this was undoubtedly the work of his jailer— Magnus's pain was intensified, and a disobedient prisoner was naturally to be punished.

In a daze, Magnus almost felt his soul being torn apart.

He trembled and knelt on the ground, his knees icy cold. Tzeentch's voice returned, this time with a playful nonchalance.

"Yes, you can get rid of me for a while, because this place has also become one of his altars—but what good will that do, Magnus?"

"You know in your heart that the free will you are showing now is only because of my permission; you are still in my hands. All your resistance exists because of my tolerance. If I wanted, you wouldn't even have the chance to resist."

"A moment of freedom," Magnus murmured, "Is better than eternal slavery."

Tzeentch laughed loudly, his voice fading into the distance, while a chilling sensation crept up Magnus's knees and up his instep. Then, Russ pulled him up.

"How do you feel?" the Fenrisian asked.

"Absolutely terrible," Magnus said. "Fortunately, we still have time to get to the next point. Where is my company commander?"

Russ glanced at Thousand Sons, whose arms and legs had been broken by the Space Wolves. Chizuru lay on the ground, looking utterly dejected and silent.

"Right over there—" Russ grinned, pointing. "—but you can't see it, and besides, someone's holding a gun to his head. You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

"Bring him here."

Russ shook his head and gestured to the Space Wolves. One of them stepped forward, severing his limbs, and was dragged over by Ahzek Ahriman, who was wearing an anti-psy collar, and thrown in front of the two Primarch.

His actions were quite brutal, like throwing a dead animal.

"Damn it, Wild Bear!" the Wolf King suddenly cursed. "Couldn't you have been a little gentler?"

"He's a traitor," the warrior known as Wild Bear replied bluntly and crudely, his voice muffled. "And I won't give a damn about a fool who sold out his own legion."

Russ took a deep breath and turned to look at Magnus —this was truly unexpected, but he couldn't see a trace of anger on Magnus's blood-stained face, only calm.

"He's right," said the Crimson King. "My company commander is indeed a fool, just like me. Ahzek Ahriman, did you hear that?"

Thousand Sons raised his head and glanced at his Gene-Father.

What did you trade?

Magnus lowered his head, his empty eyelids filled with blood, and stared at Ahzek Ahriman, asking the question again.

This time, however, Ahzek Ahriman did not run away, or rather, he was unable to run away. His lips trembled, and his face was ashen.

After a long pause, he replied, "I told that thing that if I could save my Primarch and the Legion, I would give anything."

Magnus laughed.

"Well then, congratulations on your success," he said bluntly and mercilessly. "It truly took everything from you: honor, the legion, your homeland."

"But the salvation promised in our pact—" Ahzek Ahriman gritted his teeth and moved his broken knees, inching toward the Primarch —had not come! It Deceit me, Primarch!

He cried out, his voice carrying away in the cold wind—how sorrowful!

"Your definition of salvation is clearly different from itss."

Magnus shook his head, ignoring the pleas in his son's words. He seemed somewhat tired, but still answered Ahzek Ahriman's question.

"But that's also my problem. After I left, I realized just how dangerous the Great Ocean was, but I didn't give you a clear warning. Or perhaps, even if I had, you wouldn't have heard me. Every communication between you and me over the past four years may have been orchestrated by Him."

The Crimson King chuckled mockingly.

"Fate?" He looked up at the sky, his voice a mix of questioning and sighing. "Is this the fate of me and my legion? So be it."

Magnus shook off Russ's support, turned around, and stumbled toward the burning city. He didn't walk fast, but that was enough to show his determination.

The Fenrisian narrowed his eyes, roared, and followed closely behind. The wolf pack silently followed their alpha wolf, the warrior known as Wild Bear, who still managed to drag Ahzek Ahriman away.

Their eyesight was perfectly good, yet they chose to let the only blind man in the area lead the way, following closely behind him as he wandered. They gradually ventured deeper into Tizca, and only then did the sights of the place come into full view for everyone.

Ahzek Ahriman stared in despair at the corpses scattered everywhere, at the liquefied flesh and gelatinized bones intertwined, burning intimately together in the mundane flames.

Screams, unlike those of humans, still echoed through the city. The company commander laughed maniacally, and Wild Bear whispered a warning to him to be quiet, but Thousand Sons wouldn't listen.

"Let him vent." Russ's voice drifted from the distant snowstorm ahead, as if from ancient times. The Wolf King's voice was utterly calm. "This is the only freedom he can enjoy."

Finally, they followed Magnus to an empty square.

Here, the Crimson King slowly turned around, looking at Leman Russ Russ as if sensing something. The Wolf King did not flee, but stared at those withered eyelids. Black snow howled and swirled in the gale, flashing past their eyes.

One man was fully armed, clad in armor and wielding a blade, while the other wore only thin, blood-stained clothing and carried only a blood-stained dagger.

"Russ"

The Wolf King answered the call, taking a few steps forward and standing before his brother.

I want to ask you to tell me something.

"Speak," Russ replied in a low voice. "I'll tell you everything, I assure you, Magnus."

Did Konrad Curze Curze foresee today's events?

"No."

"And this knife—" Magnus held up the dagger, his tone aggressive, as if questioning, "—what was it created for?"

"For you, brother," Russ replied painfully. "In those overwhelming visions, he saw only you; he saw you turned into a puppet in the palm of that ancient evil god's hand. He saw you, driven by that evil god in agony, destroying world after world."

He didn't know if that day would ever come, but I always plan for the worst. So I asked him, if things really did turn out that way, how would we handle it?

Russ reached out, pulled Magnus's right hand up, and pointed the dagger at his own throat.

"--So he told me we could forge a knife."

"Then you should have used this knife to kill me sooner."

Magnus paused for a moment, then smiled bitterly, withdrawing his right hand so it wouldn't be aimed at Russ's throat again. His voice, however, gradually grew more intense.

"You should have killed me before all of this actually happened."

"We can't do that," Russ said in a low voice. "We can't commit murder based on some so-called prophecy. The future is only partially known; it is shaped by us in the present. If we believe everything in prophecy, what's the point of living in the present?"

Magnus fell silent, and when he spoke again, his voice had become rational, even to the point of being somewhat detached from worldly affairs.

The destruction of Tizca, the burning of Prospero, and Ahzek Ahriman's mad howls were no longer problems for him, no longer requiring his attention. At this moment, he had only one thing on his mind.

"I am a door," he said in a low voice. "Through me, those things in the Great Ocean can glimpse the human world."

"In the past, I refuted other scholars' claims that they were Daemon, even though ancient texts clearly recorded it. I believed that this term was merely something that shallow fools forcibly attributed to them."

"I have sailed the Great Ocean at least tens of thousands of times, Russ. Many times, I have brushed past them, sensing their immense size and wisdom. I once believed I could trade with them and profit from it. Looking back now, that idea is utterly ridiculous. And my son—"

He looked at Ahzek Ahriman. Thousand Sons looked at his Primarch, tears of blood streaming down her face.

He finally understood what he had done.

"--Naturally, he inherited it from me as well." The Crimson King smiled.

"He, like me, made a deal with that thing. It seems like a curse, brother. People of our caliber have had this trait and character since ancient times."

"We consider ourselves extremely important; the world would cease to turn without us. We are the center of the world, and everyone should obey our words because we bear a sense of responsibility, a sense of duty that goes beyond our own."

"It manifested in me, leading me into the trap of that evil god for the sake of my legion. It also manifested in my son, causing him to give everything out of a desire for salvation."

Ultimately, this attitude can only be summed up as arrogance and haughtiness. The more knowledge one has, the more ignorant one becomes. And now, retribution has come. My son used a spell to take me away from Terra, a spell that tore apart my father's greatest creation to date.

"What is it?" Russ asked.

"You don't know?" Magnus asked, slightly surprised.

He received an ambiguous smile, and he knew it was another Fenrisian joke—always so inappropriate, one that had annoyed Magnus countless times in the past. But now, all he wanted to do was smile.

"Yes"

With a smile and a sigh, the Crimson King slowly uttered that name.

"Webway."

"Ahzek Ahriman tore open the Webway, albeit a small hole, but the Webway is an exquisite and enormous creation. You and I both know that such a massive project allows no room for carelessness; any tiny mistake could have fatal consequences."

"Moreover, this mistake was meticulously planned by Him, so I have reason to believe that Terra is now engulfed in flames, just like Prospero. No, it could even be worse."

"What do you want to do?" Russ asked.

He listened patiently to Magnus's entire confession and memorized his words. However, the conversation eventually returned to one thing.

I still have a little psionic power.

Magnus turned his head, reached out his hand, and felt Prospero burning in the wind and snow, but his words still continued.

"Pure, uncontrolled psychic energy. You may not believe it, but I did have a brief period of freedom. My father took away my talents and also took me out of prison."

"During my four years in Terra, I embarked on the path of psychic powers again as an apprentice. Starting over wasn't easy, and this little bit of psychic power is all I have. To be honest, it doesn't really help the current situation, but I possess a lot of knowledge. And He can't see me now."

He raised his hand and pointed to the gloomy sky filled with the howls of wronged souls, and a very obvious smile gradually appeared on Magnus's face.

"But I can see Him," the Crimson King said proudly. "I am a door; He can observe the world through me, and I can see Him through myself."

"He's out of options, Russ, at least not yet. His plans and schemes have all come to light. He needs me to carry out his plans. I've seen it all. He wants me to burn Terra, to deliver the final blow to Terra."

Magnus stopped speaking, and the pride on his face gradually turned into anger—genuine, burning anger.

The empty square behind him began to sink, ancient bricks and stones replacing the blood-stained ground. Stones rubbed against each other, thunder roared above the clouds, and a bolt of lightning struck the center of the square. Then, in just an instant, pitch-black flames raged.

Ahzek Ahriman muttered to himself, "What is this?"

Wild Bear glanced at him and shook his head. "Are you really that stupid, Thousand Sons? This is a sacrifice."

Russ suddenly took a step forward.

"Don't come any closer," Magnus said, standing in the flames with a warning. "Don't come any closer, Russ."

The wind howled, and snowflakes transformed into wailing faces, gradually enveloping Magnus. The magic circle that had been engraved on the stone ground began to light up, spreading out in concentric circles like ripples on the surface of water.

The voice of Lord Prospero began to echo in everyone's ears.

"He thought he could control everything, but He couldn't; He wasn't truly omniscient and omnipotent. He planted a thousand hidden stakes in my homeland to set traps. Ahzek, you were just one of them."

"Even without you, someone else would have carried out a different plan. He went to great lengths to manipulate me, like here. He carefully manipulated some unfortunate people to bury these stones and carve these magic circles."

"They were already buried beneath this plaza long before we even participated in the expedition. Each piece was transported across half the galaxy and buried piece by piece in the soil over a period of eighteen years."

"My fate is already in His hands, but I can still resist."

"Father!" Ahzek Ahriman cried out, struggling. "Stop! There must be another way!"

"This is a sacrificial formation."

Magnus ignored him and continued speaking. Perhaps it was out of unwillingness, or perhaps he was no longer able to respond.

Leman Russ Russ was closest to his brother, and he could see Magnus's wax-like skin gradually melting away, revealing his true form beneath—wings, bird feet, and hands that had transformed into giant claws, his breath exuding the scent of ashes.

A sound far beyond the limits of human perception began to echo in his ears, inaudible even to the Astartes, but the Primarch could, for it concerned the Warp. It was a scream, emanating from Magnus. Excruciating pain, as if he were undergoing the torture of being disintegrated.

Magnus is screaming into the Warp.

Or rather, to declare.

Its purpose is to transform me, to make me a member of the Daemon.

The Crimson King slowly raised his hands, and a faint, almost invisible Radiance emanated from between his claws. It was his own psionic energy, the psionic energy belonging only to Magnus, the Primarch the Thousand Sons of the Imperium of Man.

Faint and insignificant, yet at this moment it shone so brightly that it illuminated the entire Warp. A roar resounded, and Magnus burst into laughter.

He uttered his last words, a curse, devoid of any scholarly arrogance or pedantry.

However, from another perspective, it can also be seen as a joke, a joke specifically made for Leman Russ Russ, in response to his persistent and annoying behavior over the years, which he uttered in one of the ancient dialects of Fenris.

"But you fucking can forget about it, you filthy, lowly Warp parasite!" Magnus roared.

A colossal, scarlet, terrifying form shot into the sky, reaching for the heavens. The flames dissipated, and the Crimson King vanished without a trace. At the same time, beneath their feet, the earth of Prospero began to crack slowly.

Leman Russ Russ grinned, revealing a genuine smile.

"That's a really good joke, bro," he said.

One more chapter.