"Everything of the Thousand Sons Legion was forged by the great Magnus. From our organization, our purpose, our tactics, and even our souls, everything is the most perfect work born from the will and knowledge of our gene-father."
"He saved the Legion and reshaped it."
Ahriman walked at the very front. Morgan could see continuous lights drawing a long, pure white curve on his dark cranium. The Thousand Sons Captain's voice carried undisguised joy, a sincere blessing for his mortal friend who would receive a great gift.
"One, three, six, ten. You can see these numbers anywhere in the Legion, because numbers are the most convenient medium to carry the wisdom of human sages, the most essential thought product of human civilization."
"Three Brotherhoods, three Orders; six Schools, ten Chapters; one Seer, who is our great gene-father Magnus; one Most Holy, who is our most exalted Emperor. All of this forms the Thousand Sons Legion."
(The Thousand Sons Legion originally had six Schools and ten Chapters, but the Sixth [Talons] School was exiled towards the end of the Great Crusade for unauthorized summoning of daemons; additionally, one Chapter was completely lost during the Carminca Triplex conflict in the Great Crusade, and its designation was erased. Therefore, during the Burning of Prospero, the Thousand Sons only had five Schools and nine Chapters.)
"Three Brotherhoods: The Jackal Brotherhood, commemorating death and brewing new blood; The Blind Brotherhood, seeing all directions and hearing all sounds; The Destruction Brotherhood, exploring mysteries and devising strategies. They are responsible for training, intelligence, and staff work, respectively. Perhaps you will interact with them in the future. No need to be too nervous, just handle it with a normal work attitude."
"Next are the three Hidden Orders: The Rammed, striking like thunder; The Scarab, impregnable; and The Blade, unmatched in swordsmanship. They are special forces on the battlefield. The first is responsible for rapid strikes, the second is a tactical dreadnought armor unit, and the third is a group of swordmasters with telepathic communication. These figures are elites, and also ruthless enforcers. Their tempers might be a bit bad, which needs to be noted."
Saying that, Ahriman turned his head, his gaze gradually drifting to the staff in Morgan's hand. It was a creation of two dark-colored gems intertwined, and a pearl, blooming with blue and purple light, floated between the snarling fangs of the intertwined snakes, serving as the core of the artifact.
"A decent spellcasting tool, but unfortunately not enough... I mean, I remember you know some sword arts?"
[I only understand some mortal techniques, learned in the mundane royal court.]
Morgan shook the staff, and a curved blade extended from one side.
"That's good. Although both you and I are powerful psykers, basic martial arts still need to be practiced. You can come to me, or to Hathor. Those proud Ahriman School fellows, though arrogant, can still communicate properly. As for Khenetai... they are perhaps a bit too arrogant."
The Thousand Sons Captain lectured profusely, like a newly appointed teacher. He meticulously broke down everything about the Thousand Sons Legion, interspersing it with his most subtle and detailed language, gradually imprinting it into Morgan's ears. The Astartes and the mortal female officer's figures successively appeared on the bright red walls of the corridor, and their communication continued along the way.
Until they finally passed through the bright corridor, paved with crimson and dazzling gold, adorned with scarabs and endless spirals, and reached Magnus's holy place: the most core radiance within the Thousand Sons.
——————
The 28th Expeditionary Fleet was the pride of the Imperial Navy, and also the moving kingdom of the Prosperans in the void. And Magnus's flagship, the Lightbringer, was naturally the most graceful queen of the kingdom, the most dazzling pearl.
Unlike any of her sisters, at the request of the Lord of Prospero, this Gloriana-class vessel belonging to the Thousand Sons Legion was crafted into a slender and aesthetically pleasing, dignified beauty. Beside the Lightbringer, there was neither the clamor of war and death, nor the ostentatious extravagance of, say, the Emperor's Children's flagship, the Pride of the Emperor. Magnus's flagship, like himself, was never known for its violent power. The Thousand Sons, through the accumulation of countless ancient texts, allowed it to exude the brilliant light of wisdom, bathed in Magnus's sacred will.
Under Ahriman's lead, Morgan finally stepped into the most sacred part of the Thousand Sons' kingdom. Even among the Astartes who inherited Magnus's bloodline, most did not have this honor.
"Behold it. This is Magnus's will. This is the crying of silenced physical laws. This is the living manifestation of Tzeentch in the void. This is... the Meditation Kingdom."
Ahriman's voice carried an undeniable fanaticism. Perhaps ordinarily, he was renowned for his calmness, gentleness, and occasional maddening arrogance, but Morgan clearly understood how much this rising star of the Thousand Sons Legion revered his gene-father.
He always imitated Magnus. It was an unintentional imitation, just as Magnus always unintentionally imitated the Emperor. Essentially, it was merely a fantasy produced by two children from their own perspectives.
But even setting aside these meaningless factors, the very nature of Magnus's holy place was enough to astound anyone, even an Astartes.
Morgan saw that she was standing inside a nearly illusory golden pyramid. This scene was a perfect replica of the magnificent golden pyramids in the Prospero's capital, Tizca. This space, filled with geometric principles, shifted its external appearance at incredible angles. Sometimes, it seemed completely transparent. Morgan could even see unaware guards marching in formation from outside the space. More often, the sky of this small world continuously transformed. Sometimes it was a forest, sometimes a park, but more often, it was an incredibly vast library, exuding a cool breeze, warm light, and the accumulated scent of old books.
Ahriman moved. He deftly stepped onto the long path at the center of the space. This slender path contained a gentle slope, allowing Magnus at the far end to stand before his throne and see every visitor immediately.
And on either side of the path was the only actual decoration in this space: mosaic-patterned spiral floors. All materials were sourced from black and white crystal fragments collected from Prospero's underground caves, allowing the Primarch to feel a trace of home even in the most distant corner of the galaxy.
As they approached Magnus's throne, these black and white spirals took on a new function. Through a psychic lens, Morgan could see characters floating in the center of the spirals. These characters were the names of Thousand Sons: they were either venerable lecturers from various Chapters, or powerful figures holding actual authority within the Brotherhoods and Hidden Orders—the elite backbone who, alongside Primarch Magnus, commanded the Legion.
More interestingly, the spirals closer to the center were in motion. A power beyond physical laws drove all of this. Morgan could see the spiral marked with Ahriman's name slowly advancing, gradually moving towards the innermost circles.
"Father believes that nothing should be eternal and unchanging, just like truth. So everyone's position shifts according to their latest rights, status, and authority, except for the very center, which is our eternally correct gene-father himself."
[Everything changes, is that what you believe?]
"Very correct, isn't it?"
Ahriman's soft chuckle stopped Morgan's question, for when the silver-haired lady blinked, she would find that she had no reason to point out anything further.
Let them be.
Morgan thought this, and then she was brought to the very center of the Great Pyramid. Unlike other places, the center of the room, symbolizing Magnus's status, was decorated with a unique floor:
It was a sun.
A sun that was incredibly cold, yet shone with brilliant light.
——————
A silent smile played at the corner of her lips, framed by silver hair.
What was she saying?
Two little fools, blind in their own worlds.
——————
"You're late, Ahriman."
Several people were already standing there. Morgan saw Ahtawa: he greeted the mortal female officer warmly, as if treating a true friend.
And Hathor: his manners were impeccable, but he showed little genuine emotion. In fact, he voluntarily stood on the outermost edge of the small circle, seeming to have no interest in even Astartes' pleasantries.
Then came a few unfamiliar figures. Ahtawa introduced them enthusiastically: these were Thousand Sons warriors who had explored the city of Zargoth. Their minds had been damaged by Tzeentch's invasion, so Magnus had brought them along, vowing to find a way to heal everyone in the Warp.
But Ahriman was not like that. The Thousand Sons Captain was granted the qualification to explore the vast ocean with the Primarch because of his outstanding performance in the Dawn Star operation. For any Thousand Sons warrior, this was a great reward, unmatched by any other honor in the world.
"Have you been to the vast ocean, little one?"
Ahtawa spoke. He always liked to smile, which made him the diplomat of the Legion.
[Not exactly been there, but I've had a brief glimpse.]
"It is indeed a bit dangerous for beginners."
Ahtawa couldn't help but laugh loudly. He patted Morgan's shoulder and began to describe a rich sea filled with knowledge and unknowns.
Whether it was the mysteries of time and space, or the exploration of countless ruins, or even searching for traces of civilization that might exist in the Warp... Of course, sometimes there would also be small dangers, but in front of mature psychic power, those were mere trifles.
Morgan could see the sincerest light shining in Ahtawa's eyes. She saw the same thing in everyone else's eyes present.
"There are even creatures, wonderful creatures living in the Warp, intelligent and friendly."
[...Creatures?]
Ahtawa's latest words finally made Morgan ask a question.
"Yes, creatures. Perhaps the Talons School is more authoritative in this regard, but they're not here. But it doesn't matter, Ahriman is also well-versed in this."
Accompanied by Ahtawa's praise, Morgan could see a twisted smile, a mixture of self-satisfaction and humility, appear on Ahriman's face, as well as an annoyed huff from Hathor.
Ahriman then spoke.
"Guardian Spirits, that's what we call them."
Morgan could hear the Thousand Sons Captain's smug voice.
"Through certain means, we can harness the unconscious fragments of primordial creators in the Warp, and make them materialize and gain functions according to our will."
"The Legion is researching all this. If the research progresses smoothly, we can even allow every member of the Legion to have their own Guardian Spirit. Believe me, it can truly do many things."
[It sounds dangerous. Delving into unknown oceans to find wisdom and civilization, it's like the opening words of a hardship-filled adventure story.]
"But adventure stories always have treasures, don't they?"
The Thousand Sons laughed heartily.
"And it's not that dangerous either."
Ahriman continued to explain. Then, he mentioned Magnus, and his voice began to fill with admiration.
"Our gene-father once explored the fringes of the Warp. He undertook the greatest explorations and adventures there, accomplishing unimaginable feats. Now, we are merely following the routes he left behind, wandering in the shallow waters."
[The fringes of the Warp? Sounds truly fascinating.]
Her words seemed to carry a certain magic, making every Thousand Sons warrior discuss these topics, usually considered taboo, with abandon. And once the cage that confined their language was opened, scholars always had an astonishing amount to say.
"Yes, the fringes of the Warp. Our gene-father once went there, to..."
——————
"To unravel and reshape the threads that bound them, to erase the future that was destroyed, and to let each of my sons once again become masters of their own destiny."
——————
With a thunderous sound, Magnus appeared.
The Primarch appeared almost out of thin air. He stood less than five meters from his Ion Sons, smiling as he listened to everyone's tributes.
As if recalling something, the Primarch instinctively touched his empty right eye socket.
"Alright, everyone, no need for formalities. At this moment, we are all scholars seeking knowledge."
Saying that, the Primarch had already arrived at his designated spot. His crimson arm lightly waved, and thousands of light rings appeared from all parts of the pyramid. They continuously expanded, revealing a dark starry sky behind their veil.
"Prepare yourselves, my attendants."
The Primarch's voice resonated from the depths of everyone's soul. Morgan narrowed her eyes, chanting a spell to make herself appear no different from a mortal.
This was somewhat difficult, but fortunately, Magnus's attention wasn't focused on her. The Primarch was habitually giving his speech.
"There are always people who criticize us, some of my brothers, and even those ignorant mortals. They believe our actions are foolish and reckless, yet they don't realize that these words are more applicable to themselves."
"Now, relax, my children. Let me guide you into the Sea of Souls."
"No need to be nervous, everyone. You can forget about worldly troubles and gossip here."
"After all, what we are doing is not corruption, but..."
"Ascension."
The so-called Guardian Spirits were demons.
In the original story, by the time of the Burning of Prospero, every member of the Thousand Sons Legion had a "Guardian Spirit."
To be honest, I was confused when I first saw this. How could they play so many tricks?
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