Magnus had caused far too great a disturbance.
The shrill alarms rang throughout the city as the emergency mechanism led by Lavoisier and officials at every level sprang into action. The Faithguard Army stationed in the city responded with remarkable speed, donning their armor and assembling as quickly as possible before marching toward the Scholars' Tower.
Yet at this moment, the gulf between mortal armies and Warp entities was laid bare in all its fullness.
The first Faithguard soldiers to reach the vicinity of the tower did not even manage to see what their enemies looked like. All they saw was a torrent of distorted colors rushing toward them, followed by incomprehensible horror. Some were torn to pieces by invisible forces, their flesh exploding like fireworks; some were sprayed with corrosive slime and turned into bubbling skeletons amid shrill screams; some were swept by chaotic psychic waves, clutched their heads, and went mad, attacking their comrades indiscriminately; others were pierced by Daemonettes wielding tuning-fork-like weapons, twitching to death amid extreme agony and some twisted pleasure.
Formations? Tactics? Before such an absolute disparity in power and such incomprehensible methods of attack, they seemed pale and laughable. It became a one-sided, efficient, and brutal bloodbath. The streets were instantly dyed red, strewn with severed limbs and shattered weapons.
Magnus stood at the breach of the laboratory, which had already become a gateway to hell, watching it all unfold. He frantically unleashed psychic lightning, incinerating the demons lunging at him, blasting Pink Horrors to pieces, and crushing charging Bloodletters into pulp with telekinesis. His single eye was crimson and bloodshot, while his originally dark-red skin had turned almost purple from rage and psychic overload.
But it was useless!
A drop in the bucket!
The faster he killed, the more demons poured from that