Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 694 All is Dust - The Fall of Prospero and Magnus
"Magnus will not leave Prospero alive." - Maglost, Son of Horus, Warmaster's Chamberlain, in Vengeful Spirit

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After thirteen months had passed quietly again, tonight, the silver moon shone over the city of Tizca.

A secret transmission has been sent to the Hrafinkel from the other side of the galaxy.

Hrafinkel, who had been waiting for a long time, immediately informed the black and white wolf king of the message.

Then Uthelmaatla knew that the wind he had been waiting for had come.

In the new underground corridor of the Pyramid of Photep, a huge project has just been completed, and the special smell of welding gas, cut metal and stone still lingers in the passage.

The Iron Warriors, Warsmiths and Earth Rulers who were responsible for building a brand new city for all residents underground in Tizca had already withdrawn as ordered. The Lord of Iron would not allow any of them to complete the last job here.

In fact, it was Uthelmaatla who made this request to his brother at the beginning of the project.

"This is my end. The weight of these doomed souls and their lives should have been borne by me. My descendants and people were all innocent victims. The Four Gods' Hands and Horus were targeting me. I should give them the peace they deserve, so that I will not have any regrets."

The dark blue arcs of the vast ocean's power moved around Magnus, projecting his slender figure in all directions onto the corridor's rock wall, which was painted azure and had a giant snake and countless stars painted on it.

This Primarch, who conceptually killed "Magnus, Son of Tzeentch" ten thousand years later and shed his psychic appearance and taboos in human cognition, now has ebony skin glowing with a warm luster in the dim light, long, slightly curly black-purple hair falling on his shoulders like a waterfall, and emerald eyes filled with true sorrow.

He was dressed in a clean white calasiris and a scarlet ceremonial robe. The decorations made of blue gems were like tears and layers of pearl feathers, scattered between the patterns of his robe. The hem was embroidered with lotus, sun disc, water birds and scarabs in gold. He wore sandals made of gold, gems, papyrus and leather. The uppers were painted with the pattern of the bound enemy, and the soles were the most famous two-headed changers. In this way, no matter what mistakes he made in the ceremony, he could step on and control them steadily. He wore a scarab pendant holding a sun disc inlaid with a gold chain around his neck, and held his staff in his hand. He solemnly and slowly stepped into the temple-like stone chamber carved at the end of the main corridor.

The only lighting here is ancient candles and oil lamps. Burning incense diffuses in the stone chamber and quietly dissipates into the huge underground maze along the hidden exhaust vents built by the iron warriors. In the shadows of the flickering candlelight, you can vaguely see the obsidian and alabaster altar in the center of the temple, which seems to be filled with offerings.

The Space Wolves and Iron Warriors on this planet had all retreated back to their respective ships after the message arrived, and boarded their ships to enter a farther orbit as requested by their respective Primarchs - of course, Lord Constantine Valdor was absolutely unwilling to simply leave with Commander Gentia Kroll, but when Uthelma Atla conspired with Lord Ramizane Kalosini as a psychic advisor, the Grand Marshal of the Guards and his team of Guards and Sisters were finally sent back to the Iron Blood, with the two Tridents responsible for taking care of them so that they could sleep as sweetly as babies.

This kind of quiet and comfortable sleep also falls upon every resident of Tizca and Prospero.

The silver moon shines over the city of Tizca.

The pure white light poured down on the sparkling sea. The waves wrapped in the fine moonlight gently beat on the beach, creating layers of white waves, as if the moon was shaking off the silver yarn. The moist sea breeze carried the breath of sea water, passing over the date palm trees on the shore, the leaves rustled, and the sound of the waves intertwined into a natural movement.

Due to the curfew, all the workers on the dock have gone home. There is no one around except for the tiny sparks in the city, which are reflected on the glass surface of the beautiful Tizca pyramids, refracting more golden and silver light. Tonight, the long-lost Thousand Sons Legion and the Spire Guards are in charge of curfew patrols in the city. The Thousand Sons warriors are scattered in the city, holding their weapons tightly, vigilantly defending their homes, knowledge, and what they love.

The sky above Tizca was just as peaceful at night, with thin white clouds passing through the moonlight like mist.

But at this moment, if someone could see through the beautiful night sky, he or she would find that it is like a deep sea stirred by an invisible giant hand, rippling strangely.

Utherma Atla stood on the black and white stone altar, the blue and gold patterns on the edge of his ceremonial robes flowing like liquid starlight, his ebony fingertips touched his brow, and emerald eyes suddenly lit up with swirling lights. Languages ​​forgotten long before humans entered the starry sky slowly uttered from his lips.

His voice was gently wrapped in the unique reverberation behind the curtain, as if thousands of ancient priests were whispering at the same time. Flowing gold and silver runes appeared on the surface of the altar, and the runes rushed into the sky like living things, weaving into a huge magic circle in the starry sky.

Every time the runes flashed, there was a clear sound like glass breaking. On the streets of Tizca, the patrolling legionnaires stopped first, and a faint light seeped out from the cracks of their power armor. Some non-physical creatures living among them were expelled back into the vast ocean. At the same time, the curtain was quietly torn open, and the white-gold psychic mist poured out from a certain point in the void. Wherever the mist went, the working psychic engines and weather controllers instantly lost their voices; all the mirrors were gently broken, and the water surface turned into countless crystals; a mother was telling a myth to her child, and the child in her arms suddenly yawned and fell into her arms, and the panic on her face also turned into a peaceful sleepy face the moment she came into contact with the mist.

Utherma Atla continued to spread his hands flat, and a moon-white flame appeared in his palms. The flames scattered like dandelions, and each spark turned into a fluttering scarab. They flew out of the underground city with a sound like a silver bell, passing through thousands of houses. The soldiers, residents, animals, flowers, plants and trees of the entire city were gradually sinking in the psychic tide. They were now able to pass through the thick soil and rock layers without any harm, until they sank to the room or position that had been dug for each of them. The unmanned windows on the ground and the lights on the streets were stained with the color of mother-of-pearl by the fog.

When the last scarab landed on top of the Pyramid of Foltep and flapped its wings, Magnus, the only one taken away from fate, lowered his hands, and the light in his emerald eyes slowly dimmed.

The residents of Tizca and Prospero disappeared from the ground, and everything fell into a solidified dream. Even time stopped in this dreamlike sleep spell. Only the gentle chanting coming from deep under the pyramids still echoed over the city.

There were only two other conscious witnesses present.

Perturabo BC crouched on LOGOS's broad shoulders, shadows covering his black and white plush face that was so beautiful that it was unreal, while Ramizarn Kalosini frowned, with obvious disapproval still in his eyes.

Magnus-Uthelma Atla clutched the emerald scarab gem on his chest. This gem, like the scarab material inlaid on the breastplates of more than ten thousand Thousand Sons warriors, was also taken from the reflective cave, but it was carved and re-enchanted by Uthelma Atla himself on Prospero.

The man and the dog watched silently as Uthelma Atla personally lit up all the last sacrificial candles on the two-color altar. The gradually brighter light illuminated the body of the living Magnus, who was also sleeping peacefully on the altar, and a sharp blade placed in front of the altar.

Black as the void, bright as diamond, but upon closer inspection it was just a gray flint blade—a strange and simple blade forged by a distant alien race. No one could have imagined how much lost knowledge and power unknown to humans was added to the forging of such an ancient and primitive weapon. "Does it have to be like this?"

Ramizane once again raised the question.

"In fact, we don't have to do this." The being with the body of the Lord of Steel said, and the voice refracted and circled back and forth on the basalt walls of the corridor, forming a soft and humming echo, as if it was a call from ancient times, or a flash of fire that illuminated civilization from the depths of the soul, full of powerful temptation, "Perhaps you tell me what to do, and I can try... destroy it?"

At the moment these three words were spoken, they all felt that the thin "string" at the bottom of the entire universe was plucked roughly. For the first time, the owner of the Crystal Palace closed his mouth tightly and did not laugh.

The edges of Uthelma Atla's form seemed blurred in the candlelight, like overlapping film that had been put in the wrong place.

"Look." He smiled, his eyes showing only sadness but no resentment. "This is the problem and the fact. No amount of Imperial Truth can eliminate this problem. I know you mean well, and your power is undoubtedly growing with your insight. I only wish you would listen to Perturabo's advice."

He raised his hand and pointed at the sleeping body of Magnus. The impact that this Magnus had just suffered was undoubtedly greater than that of Utherma Atla. A shape with blurred edges, flickering, and huge wings on its back was eager to take his place.

"We can't lie to ourselves. Now that I think about it, it might be better not to delve into it, but there's no way. I am made of human curiosity. I can't obey orders like Dorn or Ferrus, and I can't divert my attention like others."

He said softly, "For humans, chaos is the end of the world. Since we don't want it to come, it will always exist in the world and become an eternal enemy. What we can do is to recognize its threat and resist its attacks at all times. This is the eternal war of mankind, Ramizane Kalosini. In this universe, war will last forever."

"I am not fighting for myself, I am fighting for my children and my people. If they are taken away from me, my determination and hope to fight will be like a tree without roots and water without a source, and it will be impossible to support everything I need. I now understand Sanguinius in some ways," he nodded, "and understand how wrong the decision I made last time was... It is natural for Ahriman to be angry and hate his father."

Utherma Atla's words were extremely bitter. "When Prospero was reduced to scorched earth in the bombing and flames, I killed all those who tried to warn others, including my son Ushizar and his guards. I let the fleet leave and left Prospero wide open. I didn't tell them the reason for the attack, and many civilians could not be evacuated in advance. I allowed them to be easily slaughtered and destroyed, making Rus and the wolf pack unconscious sinners, and making my descendants and people die with regrets. My memories are full of tragic scenes. - At that time, I knew it would happen a long time ago. If something happens, I can either just join them in the resistance, rush to Russ's flagship and argue with him loudly, and then have a fierce battle, rather than letting them die in the flesh mutation or at the hands of the wolves in the Tizca - or if I think that the Thousand Sons and the Wolves should not be both defeated here, I will personally give my offspring a comfortable ending without any pain or feeling, and then go alone to face Leman Russ and his wolves. I am their father, I am their king, and I should have this responsibility! I know it in my heart! But I... I was still afraid and hesitated after all. "

"I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid that my children, my Legion, my name, and the knowledge we had gathered over the years would be lost to the wind, and no one would know about it. So I was always on the line between accepting my end with complete loyalty and whether to resist. I couldn't make up my mind - even though I saw their unique destiny the moment I saw Ahriman. I knew that Ahriman would inherit my Book of Magnus one day, and that day would be the end of 'Magnus of the Emperor'. I am really good at deceiving myself, but for someone who knows when he will die, perhaps this is not to drive him crazy."

"Obviously, this hesitation brought me nothing but complete defeat. On the day of the end of the world, I finally embarked on the worst fate. I became an ostrich father who turned a deaf ear to the cries for help from his son and the people. On the same day, I became a son who finally proved himself to be rebellious against his father's final decision. "

Ramizarn was about to speak again, but Perturabo BC nudged him, and he shut up.

In the silence, the only sounds were Utherma Atla's rapid breathing and the crackling of the oil lamp.

He calmed his mind, and with his slender fingertips he drew runes in the air. The Nemesis Blade slowly rose up and floated in front of the two Magnus.

Ramizane Kalosini took half a step forward and seemed to want to say something, but Magnus raised his hand to stop him.

"These days, I have traveled through time and space and every edge of the galaxy. In the dead world, broken prophecies, twisted ruins and every major event, I tried to piece together the truth and find solutions from the details. I know that my descendants and I have been branded with a fate, but I want to find a way to survive that gives us a chance to get by." Maatra's eyes were as green as the water of Tizca. "I even sealed some of my descendants in seals that will not be opened until someday. Each seal seems to be tearing my soul apart."

His eyes softened as he looked at the man and the dog in turn, gently stroking the emerald scarab around their necks. "But even if I have to travel through the sea of ​​stars, I will secretly return in between to check on you..."

Before he finished speaking, his expression became solemn again as he stared at the warp storm rolling above the sky. His emerald eyes reflected a vortex of eyes that was larger than a mountain range and that only he could see at the moment.

"The barrier now seems thick, but in the tide of fate that you have continuously worked hard to stir up in each section of the river, I finally glimpsed a glimpse of hope." Magnus opened his arms, and the spiritual energy gathered into a dancing flame in his palms. The flame reflected his determined face, "I finally understand what I can do, even if it means that I will face the final consequences alone. But I will never regret it."

Although his voice was gentle, it was filled with unquestionable determination. The invisible storm of the vast ocean blew up his patterned robe.

The Nemesis Blade was gripped tightly.

Stab down.

All the world cried out in terrible, ancient wail of agony.

The sigh of a fallen god released immeasurable extraordinary power.

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“That day,” wrote the bard Gasper Hauser, “the planets fell like burning tears into the abyss. In nameless and great sorrow, we watched as Magnus and Prospero vanished from the universe without a trace.”

(End of this chapter)