Magnus found himself in a strange and alien environment.
Gone were the familiar sights of his brother Horus, the towering figures of Gehsthalin and Sekhmet, and the security of the fortified bunker.
In their place was a boundless, swirling void of Chaos—a chaotic sea of glowing greens, blues, yellows, and other vibrant, ever-shifting colors that twisted and writhed like living organisms.
The strange lights moved and intertwined, creating an oppressive and disorienting atmosphere. There was no ground beneath him, only this endless abyss of roiling colors.
Magnus floated weightlessly in the chaotic tides, his consciousness drifting with the ebb and flow of this malevolent sea.
Despite the surreal and disturbing nature of his surroundings, Magnus remained calm. His expression betrayed no fear or hesitation.
He quickly understood that this was no hallucination. The moment he touched the cursed book, a powerful entity had dragged his consciousness into this domain.
Whether it was a Greater Daemon or even a Chaos God itself, Magnus knew he was in enemy territory.
His crimson eyes narrowed, his hands slowly clenching into fists.
He understood the nature of his predicament—this was a trap.
The enemy sought to isolate his mind, to weaken his soul, to corrupt him, and perhaps even take control of his physical body back in the material realm.
But Magnus was no ordinary mortal, nor even a mere Astartes. He was a Primarch, a son of the Emperor, carefully molded and taught by his father. His psychic abilities far surpassed those of his brothers.
He closed his eyes briefly, shutting out the distracting chaos around him. Focusing his formidable psychic will, he began to draw on the golden flames of pure energy within him—the embodiment of order and reason.
The radiant energy began to gather around him, manifesting as an aura of intense golden light. It clashed sharply with the swirling colors of the Chaos realm, standing in defiance of its madness.
Magnus intended to unleash a devastating psychic blast to obliterate the trap and free his consciousness from this twisted prison.
But just as the power reached its peak, Magnus hesitated.
He opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and thoughtful.
Something about this realm felt off—there was a deeper significance to it, a hidden purpose or meaning waiting to be unraveled.
Destroying it outright might cause him to miss crucial information, information that could reveal the true nature of the Chaos incursion on Pandora.
Moreover, he realized that using such immense psychic power within this domain might have catastrophic repercussions in the material world.
What if his actions inadvertently harmed Horus or his honor guard?
What if the psychic shockwave destabilized Pandora itself?
The worst-case scenario played out in his mind—if his unleashed power tore through the fragile connection between Pandora's space gate and the Imperial Palace on Terra, the consequences would be unthinkable.
He would become the ultimate traitor to the Empire, the greatest failure of humanity's history.
Weighing these risks, Magnus released the energy he had gathered, letting the golden light around him recede. He resolved to explore the nature of this chaotic domain before taking further action.
Meanwhile, back in the fortified bunker, the tension had reached a breaking point.
"Father!"
"Please give the order!"
"We have to stop him before it's too late!"
"Stand down! Lower your weapons, now!"
The metallic clamor of shouted orders and heated arguments filled the room, echoing off its reinforced walls.
The Shadowmoon Wolf Gehstalins had raised their bolters, their targeting reticules trained squarely on Magnus, who was now bathed in radiant golden light. The plasma fields of their activated power claws hummed menacingly, crackling with suppressed energy.
If Magnus showed even the slightest sign of losing control, they were ready to strike him down.
On the other side of the room, the Sekhmet of the Thousand Sons were visibly conflicted.
Half of them immediately stepped forward to shield Magnus, standing between him and the Gehstalins with defiant glares. They were fiercely loyal to their Primarch, determined to protect him from any perceived threat.
The other half hesitated, their helmeted visors flicking nervously between Magnus and Horus.
They were torn between their duty to safeguard their father and the grim reality that Magnus might be teetering on the brink of a catastrophic psychic meltdown.
The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on.
Magnus's golden aura grew brighter and brighter, the radiance penetrating even the bunker's thick armored walls, casting faint reflections on the exterior plating.
He stood motionless, like a golden statue frozen in time, his body seemingly caught between two worlds.
The honor guards—Gehstalins and Sekhmets alike—watched him with growing dread.
If Magnus's psychic energy spiraled out of control, the result would be nothing short of apocalyptic.
A Primarch's psychic release was a force of unparalleled devastation. Magnus, as the most gifted psychic among the Emperor's sons, would not merely damage the bunker or the 2nd Company's base—he would annihilate the entirety of Pandora, ripping apart its crust and turning the planet into a smoldering wasteland.
"Hold your ground!"
Horus's thunderous voice rolled through the chamber like an avalanche, silencing the escalating arguments.
"Yes, Father!"
The Gehstalins begrudgingly lowered their weapons but remained on high alert, their fingerless power claws still primed for action.
One of the Sekhmets, a veteran who had fought beside Magnus for centuries, knelt before Horus and pleaded:
"Honored Horus, please save our father! We beg of you!"
His voice was filled with desperation, his kneeling form quickly joined by others.
"Please, Lord Horus! Save him!"
Horus's stern expression softened slightly. He gave a small nod, signaling his understanding of their plea.
Turning his attention back to Magnus, Horus's gaze was heavy with a mix of concern, frustration, and an inner turmoil that gnawed at him.
Horus had trusted his brother—trusted Magnus's brilliance, his psychic mastery, his unwavering loyalty. That trust had led him to agree to this dangerous gamble of unlocking the book.
But now, the scene before him was undeniable proof of Chaos's cunning.
This entire situation—the cursed book, the psychic trap—had been meticulously planned. It was a deadly game orchestrated by a being of immense malice and intelligence, designed to turn Magnus's strength into a liability.
Horus's mind raced with possibilities, but the options were grim.
To strike Magnus down now, before he could lose control, might prevent catastrophe. But it would also mean killing his beloved brother—a choice that Horus could scarcely bring himself to make.
Yet to wait too long could mean the destruction of Pandora and potentially the entire star system.
His grip on his mighty Thunder Hammer, Worldbreaker, tightened as his muscles coiled with reluctant tension.
In the Chaos realm, Magnus stood unwavering, his golden psychic aura now reduced to a steady glow.
Suddenly, a cacophony of enraged, rasping voices echoed through the void.
"****! YOU FOOL!"
"Impossible! This can't be happening!"
The voices scratched like nails on metal, harsh and guttural.
"This is YOUR fault, idiot! How dare you defy me!"
The entire realm seemed to tremble under the weight of the furious outbursts.
Magnus raised an eyebrow, his expression calm and unshaken.
If the voices were this enraged, it meant he had made the right choice by not releasing his psychic energy earlier.
Then, without warning, a colossal figure materialized before Magnus.
The entity was enormous, a towering amalgamation of constantly shifting shapes and forms. Its body was a chaotic collage of eyes, mouths, tentacles, and wings, each piece flowing into the next in a grotesque display of madness.
Its central eye glared down at Magnus with burning hatred, and its multitude of mouths roared in unison:
"You will regret this, Magnus of Prospero! You and your kin will PAY for this defiance!"
Magnus stood his ground, meeting the entity's rage with cold defiance.
"You have already lost," Magnus said calmly. "And I will ensure your schemes unravel completely."
As his words rang out, the golden light around him began to intensify once more, preparing for the final clash.
The trap had been sprung—but Magnus was ready to turn it against its maker.
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