Should I accept… or not?
At this moment, Magnus was trapped in deep indecision.
Even after receiving the invitation from the Sixteenth Legion and the Eighth Legion, he still could not make up his mind.
Though he possessed one of the most brilliant intellects among the primarchs—and knowledge vast enough to shake worlds—when it came to this matter, Magnus had no idea what the right choice was.
No matter how he looked at it, it felt like a trap.
It had to be that man—Bruce—trying to lure him onto hostile ground, then use some bizarre sorcery to turn him into a woman the way Horus and Curze had been changed.
The Thousand Sons' flesh-change was already severe enough. He could not afford any further physical alterations. If his own body were changed too, then the fate of the Thousand Sons would be total eradication at the Emperor's hands.
Madness. You two turned into women, and now you want me to join you?
Go to hell.
"Lord Magnus, the allied fleet is pressing again for a response. How should we reply?"
The vox officer asked the question under tremendous pressure.
He could not understand what it was that his all-powerful primarch feared so much. Why was he still frozen in thought over something as simple as answering a call?
"Not yet. Let me think a little longer…"
Magnus continued to hesitate.
From that guardian-like presence in the Warp, he had learned that Horus had not truly been "saved," but was instead "alive" in another form. The same was true of the long-missing Curze.
Because of that, Magnus had no choice but to be cautious.
He did not know whether those two brothers of his were still truly the brothers he remembered.
What if Bruce had completely corrupted them—not just their outward appearance, but their inner selves as well?
Damn it, Horus! Curze! I have to save you!
"Bruce… what kind of power do you really possess…?" Magnus muttered to himself.
If Bruce had come to Prospero alone, Magnus would have sent him flying on the spot.
Changing his brothers, and in the future bringing ruin upon the Imperium of Man—you deserve to die.
But the problem was that Bruce did not stand alone.
Two primarchs stood behind him. And one of them was Warmaster Horus.
Magnus did not consider himself the sort to bully the weak and fear the strong—but even he had to admit that Horus was a terrifying opponent. If things truly came to blows with him, Prospero might not survive it.
"Lord Magnus, the allied fleet has sent another urgent message. Warmaster Horus has left you a personal statement."
"Speak!"
The moment Magnus heard that Horus himself had left a message, he no longer dared delay.
Horus knew very well that Magnus had violated the edicts and continued his excursions into the Warp. If the Warmaster wanted to use that against him, Magnus had no real means of resisting.
But should I really yield like this?
No. Never.
"Warmaster Horus says this: you have ten minutes. If you still do not respond by then, he will personally land on Prospero and meet with you face-to-face."
The vox officer translated the message as it came in.
"He says he would prefer not to make matters so ugly. He asks that you think carefully."
The meaning was obvious enough.
Either you come up and talk—or we come down and talk.
And if we come down, then things will no longer remain this simple.
"Lord Magnus… perhaps…"
One of the Thousand Sons spoke up cautiously.
"Should we strike first?"
Most of the Legion still did not understand what exactly was happening. But if something serious enough had occurred to bring the Warmaster here in person, then it could not be a small matter. Perhaps their secret research—or their training—had already been discovered.
If that was the case, then why not gamble everything?
"Silence!"
Magnus whirled and roared the word, furious.
"What nonsense are you speaking? That is the Emperor's Warmaster! His will is the Emperor's will! Do you mean to betray the Emperor? To betray the Imperium itself?!"
As he spoke, Magnus released his psychic might, forcing the speaker down to his knees.
"Forgive me… Father…"
The kneeling Thousand Son apologized at once.
Though Magnus still could not understand why the Warmaster seemed so utterly supportive of Bruce, that was no excuse for treason.
If they opened fire, the entire Legion would be finished.
And more importantly, the Warmaster had clearly come under the banner of conciliation. Otherwise he would not have come without his flagship.
"Give the order!"
Magnus finally made up his mind and issued the command.
"Send our most sincere invitation to my two brothers. Ask them to land in the city of Tizca. I have matters of importance to discuss with them personally."
"Yes, my lord!"
The vox officer hurried to comply.
In the end, this was the only course Magnus could think of.
If he prepared the right formations in advance, he could purge the curse from his brothers the moment they met. That was the plan.
And if that failed…
Then he would kill Bruce first.
After that, he would imprison Horus and Curze with sorcery and take them both to Holy Terra.
If even his psychic arts could not save them, then only their father could.
Soon enough, the answer came back from Horus.
"Report! Lord Magnus—Warmaster Horus replies that he will land immediately, and asks that you be prepared."
Magnus's heart clenched the moment he heard it.
Around him, the others only grew more confused.
As the First Captain and chief librarian, Ahzek Ahriman stood there in silence. Alongside him were the Legion's chief tactical adviser, Fahl, and Magnus's most trusted attendant, Uthizzar Creed.
These were all senior Thousand Sons—men who had fought at his side through countless battles, men who had watched Magnus lead the Legion from ruin back into greatness.
And yet even they had never seen their primarch look this unsure of himself.
In their eyes, Magnus had always been the most learned, the proudest, and the most capable of them all. Apart from a little humility in front of the Emperor, he was the sort who could look down on the entire galaxy without blinking.
But today?
Today he was simply too strange.
Anyone who did not know better would have thought he was not preparing to receive allied visitors, but awaiting judgment and execution.
"Father, your condition today is… not right."
Creed finally spoke, voice weighted with concern.
"Have you seen something? Is that why you are like this now?"
As far as Creed could tell, there was only one explanation.
Prophecy.
Only something glimpsed through psychic foresight could explain why the Crimson King himself had become this uneasy.
"There is danger approaching. I have to make preparations…"
Magnus seized his staff and turned to leave, already constructing layer after layer of psychic arrays in his mind.
Whatever happened, he would free his brothers from their curse.
And if that meant sacrificing Bruce—so be it.
If even he could not rescue them, then their father would.
"Father, was there some problem with the Warmaster's visit?"
Creed hurried after him.
"Has the Warmaster discovered our secret training? Our research? Does the Emperor know?"
That was the worst outcome Creed could imagine. What else could frighten Magnus like this, if not something involving the Legion and psychic power?
"No… it is worse than that…"
Magnus shook his head.
He wanted to say more, but when he looked at the sons following him, he found himself unable to speak.
Was he supposed to tell them that the Sixteenth and the Eighth had already suffered terrifying mutations? That the same disaster might soon spread to the Thousand Sons?
If he said that aloud, his sons would surely resolve themselves to die fighting. They would kill Bruce at any cost—and then there would be no room left for peace.
At last, Ahriman broke his silence.
"Father… I knew you entered the Warp last time."
Magnus stopped dead in his tracks.
"You followed me, Ahriman?"
"Forgive me, Father. I did not mean to. But…"
Ahriman took a breath.
"I know you saw something in the Warp. A dark future."
"Whatever you saw—it must concern our Legion. And the Imperium."
He lowered his head, then looked up again.
"Please. Let us help you."
"Yes, Father!"
Others joined in immediately.
"We are one!"
"There is nothing the Thousand Sons cannot overcome!"
"Father, we are seekers of knowledge. If we think together, we will find an answer!"
"Even if it comes to war, we will stand with you!"
"Father! Tell us what troubles you!"
The voices rose one after another, sincere and unwavering.
Looking at them, Magnus felt both pain and resolve.
Ever since he had taken command of this Legion, his mission, his duty, his life, his soul—everything he had—had existed for them.
Seeing how moved Magnus was, Ahriman finally threw caution aside and revealed more.
"I know it. You saw that prophecy, didn't you? Your gift is stronger than mine. You must have seen even more."
He clenched his fists.
"That man—Bruce—he is dangerous, isn't he?"
What Ahriman had seen in his own vision was this:
The Emperor imprisoned forever in the palace. Primarchs disappearing one after another. The Great Crusade coming to a halt. And beyond that—Bruce, a ruthless opportunist, grasping absolute power with no one left to restrain him.
The future of humanity…
How wretched.
Magnus stared at Ahriman for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
"Ahriman… you really are…"
The anger in his voice flashed only briefly before fading.
In the end, he made his decision.
If there was trouble, then they would bear it together.
"Come with me," Magnus said at last.
"There are things I must tell you."
He turned and kept walking.
"About the future of our Legion."
"And the future of the Imperium."
Join here to read ahead.
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Uma Musume: From Beginner 125
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The Gacha Merchant Who Started 31
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