Ahriman did not know that a great existence had obscured his sight of the future. In truth, there were fewer than ten Psykers in the entire galaxy capable of concealing themselves from him.
Nor could he have imagined that an existence would choose to interfere simply for amusement.
Amusement—amusement was everything. That Warp god possessed infinite enthusiasm for all changes and accidents, even when they caused its own followers to suffer setbacks.
Or rather, to it, no one was an ally. Any person or thing could be toyed with.
Even gods themselves.
"How could this be? Nothing happens in the future, but my premonition..."
The Chief Sorcerer abruptly opened his eyes. Perhaps he truly was being overly sensitive and suspicious.
He had received a commission from his gene-father, ordering him to lead the Legion here to aid the Warmaster. To Ahriman, this was an immense burden.
The Thousand Sons Legion had weakened to the point where it could be destroyed at any moment. His sense of responsibility absolutely would not allow the Legion to perish in his hands.
Especially those fading battle-brothers. The death of even one caused Ahriman indescribable pain.
"To be safe, perhaps withdrawing from this mess directly would be a good choice."
"Better safe than sorry. That is an eternal truth."
The worried Ahriman waved a hand, signaling for his battle-brothers not to worry.
At this moment, he had already begun to consider retreating. There was little reason to continue this war that had left him so confused.
What Ahriman had not seen was that the direction from which Lox's Adeptus Mechanicus reinforcement fleet arrived happened to be the region where the Thousand Sons Legion was roaming.
Lox used the authority of the Omnissiah to enhance the fleet's stealth capabilities. Combined with the effects of Blackstone's anti-Warp