Not Much of a Person

173. Not Much of a Person

(At a reader's request, "+" was changed to "''".)

You realized what sin he was about to commit.

And that terrified you.

Magnus let out a short, sharp scream.

For a witch accustomed to gazing into the Warp for long stretches of time, everything that had just happened was incomprehensible, even now.

A god had descended. With extraordinary arrogance and wild abandon, this glittering golden deity was nearly boundlessly unhinged—He had simply descended like that!

Magnus screamed.

Then, perhaps a few seconds passed, perhaps several years. In any case, amid a wave of soul-deep dizziness, the Crimson Fool finally regained a measure of clarity.

Then he faced Him directly.

That golden eternal sun.

He was so radiant that all filth lay exposed beneath Him. There was not a single blind corner of shadow. Light shot in from every direction, piercing between cells, piercing deep into the soul. No matter which way the Primarch looked—

This eternally cold, eternally scorching golden sun would forever hang directly above his head. All anyone could do was look up at Him and worship Him.

Was he really going to fight something like this?

Magnus felt another shriek escape his throat. It was an instinctive reaction to something too incomprehensible to grasp.

He knew that The Emperor might possess an immensely majestic side, but he had never imagined that The Emperor's true form would be so impossible to accept. Anyone facing Him would feel only one thing: trembling as they dropped to their knees.

Magnus was ready to turn and run. Malcador had forced him to come here in the first place—

And the Primarch had no doubt that the other Primarchs, such as Guilliman and Corax, would also choose to avoid battle.

But just as the Crimson