Chapter 1187: Get out of here! Go back to Terra!
The ruins of Commorragh hummed ominously as they were eroded by the energy of the warp, and broken spires stood out against the scarlet sky like gnawed bones.
The shadow of Magnus's horn was cast on the cracked crystal ground, and the psychic flames bursting from the top of the scepter made his copper skin look like burning charcoal.
"My lord, the Warmaster and his men have already evacuated." Ahriman's voice came from the communication bead, mixed with the roar of grenade launchers.
His blue and gold helmet was stained with the acidic blood of the demon, and the Thousand Sons emblem embedded in his breastplate rose and fell with his rapid breathing.
Magnus did not look back, veins bulging on his muscular arms, and the psychic trajectory drawn by the scepter left a burning afterimage in the air.
As soon as another group of Tzeentch demons squeezed out of the crack in the Webway, the light blue psychic storm shredded them into pieces of meat.
Purple entrails rained down on the Astra Militarum's flak armour with a sickening clatter.
"The third company retreats to the second line of defense!" Magnus suddenly shouted. He saw endless Nurgle creatures seeping out from the collapsed arch on the west side.
The Thousand Sons wizards immediately changed their formation, and the soles of their rune-inlaid boots rolled over the broken crystals on the ground.
The rookie Sobek was tripped by the broken claw of the horror demon while moving, and his mentor Tal immediately pulled his backpack strap to lift him up. This action caused more blood to seep out of the gaps in the veteran's shoulder armor.
"Maintain psychic resonance!" Magnus's single eye suddenly tightened as he sensed the malice coming from the other side of the warp.
The scepter slammed heavily to the ground, and the psychic energy waves that exploded with him as the center shattered all the demons within a million kilometers.
But more claws with a smell of sulfur had already poked out of the cracks, and the roars of the Khorne Bloodletters made dozens of Astra Militarum recruits bleed from their ears.
Ahriman's bolter jammed, and he swore and drew his ceremonial knife.
The Prospero runes engraved on the blade lit up, pinning the approaching Slaanesh demon in mid-air.
"Team Seven is out of ammunition!" A hoarse report came from the communication channel, and Magnus heard the crisp sound of metal magazines hitting the crystal ground.
The Primarch suddenly knelt on one knee and pressed his left hand to the ground. The psychic emblem on his palm resonated with the ancient webway node of Commorra, and the entire ruins began to tremble.
Trillions of tons of building debris floated into the air, forming a new barrier under the traction of psionic energy.
At a certain moment, Magnus vaguely saw his face reflected in the broken crystal, and the scar running from his forehead to his jaw was bleeding.
"It is an honor to fight you, Thousand Sons!" Magnus's roar drowned out the demon's screams.
He noticed that the apprentice Castor's blue armor had turned dark red. The psychic energy was invading the minds of these Thousand Sons. In Magnus' opinion, they would not be able to hold on for long.
The warp cracks suddenly expanded, and pus-like chaotic energy gushed out.
Magnus felt cold claws tearing at his consciousness, the gaze of Tzeentch himself.
He bit his tongue to stay awake, and the beam of light shot out from the scepter nailed the Tzeentch fire demon that tried to launch a sneak attack to the twisted metal beam.
"Ahriman! Lead the team back to defend Terra!" Magnus' voice was filled with psychic resonance, and every syllable made the air buzz.
He saw the pupils of the think tank director's helmet eyepiece shrinking, reflecting his own disintegrating energy field.
"My Lord, but..."
"No buts!" The Primarch suddenly reached out and grabbed the flying demon limbs, and the psychic flames instantly burned them to ashes. "The Emperor needs you! Terra needs you!" As he said this, the golden leaf decoration on his left shoulder armor was slowly melting.
The portal took shape amidst the psychic surge, and the Thousand Sons evacuated in silence.
Magnus noticed that the veterans' steps were still steady, but the recruits' movements had become stiff, a sign of psychic overdraft.
Sobek suddenly turned around before stepping into the portal and shouted something in the ancient language of Properos, but was swallowed up by the explosion.
"Let the mortals go too!" Magnus shouted to the auxiliary army's position. His voice was hoarse from continuous casting, and spider-web-like cracks appeared on the gem at the top of the scepter.
On the defense line, Astra Militarum Captain Valken was using his laser gun to fire at the swarm of Nurgle flies that were trying to get around.
The left sleeve of his uniform was empty because it was completely corroded by the demonic acid three minutes ago when he was trying to save the signalman.
"Sir, we are the Emperor's coins." The captain spat out blood foam from his mouth and used his knees to support the butt of the gun to replace the energy cartridge. "When it was minted, it was destined to be consumed on the battlefield."
Magnus saw a girl wearing a gas mask bandaging the wounded in the trench.
Her medical bag had long been empty, and she was now using strips of cloth torn from the bodies of her comrades.
OK…” The Primarch took a deep breath, and a storm of psychic energy swirled around him.
He could feel the whimpering of every gene-seed in his body, but even more distinct was the call coming from the direction of Terra.
The demonic torrent suddenly stopped for a moment.
Magnus' pupils widened sharply as he caught the pattern of the warp tides.
"Hold on for a minute!" he shouted to Valken, using his psychic powers to tear open his armor, revealing his red body.
The captain grinned, revealing bloody teeth, kicked away the empty ammunition box at his feet, and pulled a grenade from the waist of his dead comrade.
"For the Emperor!" This cry ignited the final frenzy of the entire front line.
Magnus's scepter began to disintegrate, and the gem fragments floated around him to form a new magic circle.
As the last group of Thousand Sons disappeared through the portal, the Primarch suddenly laughed.
He thought of the library of Properus, the smell of the parchment scrolls in the sunset.
The warp cracks twisted and deformed in his wild laughter, and billions of demons were torn into powder by the reflowing psychic energy.
But Magnus knew it was only a respite.
At his feet, Captain Valken's body was still in the throwing position, his frozen fingers tightly grasping the grenade without the pull ring.
When the second wave of demons came, Magnus had already reconstructed the psionic matrix.
He broke the scepter and stuck the two halves into the ground. Light blue energy veins spread through the ruins like tree roots.
"Come on, join us..."
"Join us, there is no pain, no fear..."
"Magnus, your power should be ours..."
"Stop serving your damned false emperor and join our great family..."
Endless distorted voices sounded from all around, but Magnus had no fear, no anger, and no expression.
Countless demons rushed towards him. He slowly raised his hands, and red spiritual energy spread over his red skin.
"I will fight for my father until the very end, demons."
"I am the Crimson King of the Empire, the Lord of Twilight, and I will fight here for ten thousand years."
