Chapter 262: There's No Harm Without Comparison
As the gate to Khorne's domain closed, no one knew what was happening inside. But those with psychic talent could feel the violent tremors in the warp; the battle between the DOOM Slayer and Khorne was still raging.
"Marshal Amalrich... did you see that just now? What was that giant mech?" asked Creed, his mouth agape. The lho-stick that was perpetually between his lips had fallen to the ground at some point without him noticing. Ever since that warship full of powersuits had arrived, the entire battle for Cadia had been filled with one incomprehensible event after another.
"I did not recognize it," Amalrich replied. "I am almost certain that machine is not of Imperial origin."
Under normal circumstances, a construct of that size built by the Imperium would have at least a few Imperial Aquilas plastered on it, if not an entire cathedral.
The Cadian soldiers on the front line who had witnessed the DOOM Slayer's brutal execution of Angron had seared his image into their minds. Though the being wore armor, he was still humanoid. The soldiers preferred to believe he was a secret weapon of the Imperium, or perhaps a miracle of the Emperor himself.
"Order the troops to retake the lost positions! Have the SCVs repair the damaged fortifications!" Creed immediately commanded. Regardless of who their mysterious benefactor was, he had granted them a massive advantage. The traitors, now stripped of Khorne's blessings, had lost their greatest asset. There would be no better opportunity to strike.
Meanwhile, in the warp, Nurgle, Slaanesh, and Tzeentch were all watching the earth-shattering commotion emanating from Khorne's realm. The three gods could not comprehend what had driven Khorne to such an extreme. The Great Game between the four had never reached such a state.
When the DOOM Slayer first entered Khorne's domain, the disturbance had been large enough to attract the attention of the other three. But none of them had expected this being to be able to push Khorne to the point of risking everything. They could feel Khorne's power weakening; he had never fully recovered from his clash with the Emperor, and this was another grievous wound.
In the palace of the Prince of Pleasure, the soul of Fulgrim was being held in Slaanesh's grasp. Compared to Khorne, who had permanently lost Angron, Slaanesh's own loss no longer seemed so great. Khorne could discard Angron as he pleased, but a "plaything" as durable as Fulgrim was a rare treasure for Slaanesh. Moreover, Khorne had lost a portion of his own essence this time. This revelation lessened Slaanesh's desire to torment Fulgrim. After all, there's no harm without comparison. Seeing someone else in a worse predicament made Slaanesh feel much better.
Nurgle, too, no longer seemed as angry as he had been. He even ordered Mortarion to halt his advance towards Cadia. He was almost thankful that Lucan had blocked Mortarion's path from the beginning. In such a short time, one Daemon Primarch had been permanently killed and another had been banished, and neither had achieved any decisive results. This made Nurgle doubt whether Mortarion's arrival would have made any real difference to the battle. His own daemon legions on Cadia were being held back by the Zerg and the Protoss; victory in the material realm was looking increasingly difficult.
Tzeentch watched Khorne's realm, which was constantly erupting with world-destroying power. The barriers of the domain blocked his sight and his foresight; he could not see what was happening inside. However, he calculated that if he were to engage in a life-or-death struggle with Khorne, he would not be able to push him to this extent. The war between the four gods was never just between the four of them; it also involved their followers and their respective daemon legions. The only explanation for what was happening in Khorne's realm was that he was fighting a single, individual entity.
The thought that a single being could push Khorne to this point sent a faint flicker of fear through even Tzeentch's ever-changing heart. He looked at the last remaining Daemon Primarch on Cadia—his own champion, Magnus—and began to consider whether he should recall him and rethink his entire strategy. He knew the other two gods were slowly disengaging from this war. He would not be the one left to fight and die for nothing.
"Hmm? How is this possible... Angron is dead? Was it because of that giant humanoid mech?" Magnus looked towards the direction where Angron had been. The psychic signature of his former brother was completely gone. For a moment, Magnus doubted if it was real. He sought guidance from the Lord of Change.
Tzeentch's command was simple: retreat. Their objective had failed. In the current situation, it was no longer possible to kill Lucan or destroy Cadia. They had completely underestimated the forces at Lucan's disposal.
But Magnus was reluctant. His Thousand Sons had already observed Guilliman approaching their position. Apart from his Ultramarines, he was accompanied only by some mortals and those psionically-gifted xenos. The Greater Daemon of Tzeentch from the Blackstone Fortress had fought the Protoss before; while they were strong, they were not strong enough to make Magnus fearful. And he was well aware of Guilliman's pathetic resistance to psychic power.
"Great Lord of Change," Magnus pleaded, "though we cannot eliminate your target now, I can bring Guilliman back to your domain. That would still be a worthy prize. My sons and I are confident we can defeat and capture Guilliman."
Hearing Magnus's plea, Tzeentch agreed. If they could obtain Guilliman, his leadership abilities would be of great use. Adding another Daemon Primarch to his ranks would make the entire operation worthwhile. But Tzeentch still warned Magnus: the moment he saw that his plan was failing, he was to immediately abandon his physical form and return to the warp. Magnus agreed to obey.
A stream of good news had made Guilliman eager to press forward. Ferrus had banished Fulgrim, and Lucan had dealt with Angron permanently. Abaddon's forces were stalled. Now, only Magnus remained a threat.
Guilliman looked at the concentrated warp energy swirling around Magnus's position, his expression grim. He was confident his combat skills were no less than Magnus's, perhaps even greater. But the moment his brother used his psychic powers, he was helpless. He had suffered at the hands of sorcery more than once.
"Do not worry, Guilliman," Artanis said. "I and the Lord's Blanks will help you counter his psychic abilities."
Guilliman nodded in acknowledgment.
As the force continued its advance, they arrived at the position Magnus had ravaged. But Magnus himself was nowhere to be seen. The area was hideously corrupted; countless machines had been twisted into grotesque flesh-metal hybrids by Chaos sorcery. Some Imperial soldiers were even still alive, their powersuits burst open by fleshy growths, and they stumbled蹒跚ly towards Guilliman.
"Kill me... kill me, please... I don't want to become a monster..." a soldier begged with his last ounce of strength. Guilliman knew Magnus had left them here for him to see.
"Guilliman, look out!"
Artanis's voice rang in Guilliman's ears as he sensed a sudden surge of psychic power. Artanis's will was instantly transmitted to the mind of every Protoss through the Khala. He ordered all the Zealots to activate their charge ability and immediately flee the area.
But it was too late for Guilliman and his Ultramarines. From the scorched earth, tentacles made of pure psychic energy erupted, instantly ensnaring Guilliman and his sons. Guilliman swung the Emperor's Sword with lightning speed, slicing through the tentacles, but more and more of them wrapped around his body.
The tentacles began to slowly drag Guilliman into Tzeentch's Crystal Labyrinth.
Seeing his plan succeed, Magnus appeared before his brother.
"Guilliman, my brother," he gloated. "Struggle no more. You and I both know you cannot possibly escape my sorcery
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