Shalazar, standing to the side with the Staff of Force in his hand, smiled slightly.
He was genuinely happy that his master's plan was proceeding smoothly.
A perfect conspiracy was the best gift to the Lord of Change.
Only Magnus could orchestrate such a flawless scheme, playing his primarch brothers like puppets in his hands.
Magnus paid no attention to the respectful, adoring gazes of his subordinates.
He toyed with the Aetheric Orb in his hand, the look of triumph in his single eye growing more intense.
He could already imagine Guilliman's fury at the fall of the Pharos.
"Bring the surviving humans here. We need these slaves of the Corpse-Emperor for a ritual powerful enough. Don't let those damned idiot daemons kill them all," Magnus said in a low voice.
"Understood, my lord. I will go immediately," Pharos and the other sorcerers went out to prepare for the upcoming ritual.
After instructing his subordinates, Magnus continued to observe the situation on Pharos through his powerful psyker abilities.
This plan was so perfect that he couldn't bear to miss a single detail.
He knew that Guilliman had deployed the Saint Celestine, High Marshal of the Black Templars - Amalrich, and Grey Knights Grand Master - Kaldor Draigo to protect the special beacon on Pharos.
Such a military force was enough to counter a greater daemon of the Warp.
Even he would find it difficult to break through the outer defenses quickly. It could be said to be as solid as a rock.
Magnus had no intention of confronting them head-on.
He knew that the best way to deal with a strong fortress was to corrupt it from within.
The seed had been planted. Now, the most important thing was to wait for it to take root and sprout.
The governor's Mansion where Valen resided was vast and luxuriously decorated.
A high-quality red carpet was laid in the corridor, soft and plush underfoot.
The walls were adorned with valuable paintings, sculptures, and various collected artifacts.
These artworks were the painstaking creations of top artists.
Each piece was priceless.
Yark followed the governor deep inside, passing through the garden where servitors were repairing and cultivating.
The garden was large, the size of a golf course.
After all, having been the planetary governor for over two centuries, even if Valen was incorruptible, he still possessed this much wealth.
Valen finally led Yark into the hall located in the depths of the mansion.
It was very secluded, with few people coming here.
Valen reached out and touched a switch, and the luxurious crystal chandelier installed above the hall emitted a soft light, dispelling the darkness.
A mechanical hum sounded from a hidden corner, and the fan in the exhaust vent began to turn.
The stale, stuffy air was expelled, and fresh air was drawn in through the vents.
The temperature was also adjusted to be more comfortable.
"My lord, why did you bring me here?" Yark asked, looking at the person he respected and admired, his tone filled with confusion.
"I need your help, and Pharos needs your help, Yark," Valen said solemnly, looking at the young, handsome Yark.
Once upon a time, he had been that young.
Youth was a good thing, representing vitality and vigor.
"Then what should I do?" Yark asked.
"Close your eyes," Valen said.
Yark had no defenses whatsoever. Valen had ruled Pharos for two and a half centuries.
Countless people sang his praises; he was the most respected person.
On Pharos, besides the Emperor and the primarchs, Valen had become a third object of faith.
"I'm sorry," Valen whispered, then with a swift motion, he slit Yark's throat.
Yark felt the pain in his throat, and he opened his eyes.
He saw the person he most respected in his life holding the dagger that had murdered him.
Blood dripped from the gleaming dagger, crystal clear, like perfect blood jades.
Why??
Yark reached up to cover the wound on his throat. Warm blood gushed out, quickly seeping through his fingers.
His young, vibrant eyes were filled with the pain of betrayal.
He didn't understand why the respected Valen would do this.
"For the Imperium," Valen said softly, "I am very sorry, but I had to do it. For a greater purpose, a little sin is nothing."
Yark didn't die immediately. He watched as Valen took out a book with no cover and flipped through it.
Then, he crouched beside him, placed the book aside, and began to draw something on his body according to the complex patterns within.
"He betrayed us."
Yark's mind lost the ability to think due to lack of oxygen. His last thought was this.
Why??
Why betray??
Yark's eyes were wide, those eyes seemingly questioning Valen, asking why he would do such a thing??
Why betray the Imperium, betray humanity.
Valen paid no attention to those eyes, continuing to draw the Chaos runes to himself.
An eight-pointed star surrounded by three rings, and ancient, long-lost Nyan script.
After completing the carving, Valen began to chant according to the ancient sacrificial texts in the book.
The crystal chandelier in the hall flickered, and the temperature suddenly dropped.
A bone-chilling wind blew from some unknown corner.
The wind was mixed with strange whispers, like twisted beings inviting Valen to walk towards an eternal world.
Valen suppressed his fear and continued to chant according to the records in the book.
The lights flickered more intensely, and a thin layer of frost condensed on the floor.
Shadows piled up in the corners, and sharp laughter echoed, sending shivers down the spine.
Fear surged in Valen's heart. He shouldn't be doing this.
But at this point, there was no turning back.
As the final prayer fell, the shadows emitted piercing screams, whispers, and mocking voices, all mixed together.
It seemed as if thousands of people were shouting, or perhaps it was one person shouting with a thousand voices.
A black whirlwind, carrying burning ashes, swirled around Yark's body.
Everything reached a climax, and then quickly subsided.
When the body disappeared, the cold receded, and the whispers vanished.
It was as if none of this had ever happened.
Only after completing all the steps of the ritual did Valen shakily close the book.
Yark's body had disappeared, leaving only the bloodstains on the carpet as proof of his existence.
A warm current appeared within Valen's body, making him feel as if his aging body was once again filled with strength.
The ritual was successful.
By sacrificing Yark, he regained his vitality.
"Praise the Emperor, your sacrifice was valuable, Yark."
Valen said in a low voice.
"I will serve the Emperor more devoutly, and serve the primarch more devoutly."
After saying this, Valen tidied up his things and locked away the book containing the forbidden sorcery. He swore he would never use this book again.
After a devout confession.
Valen then had a cleaning servitor clean up the bloodstains on the carpet, erasing the last traces of Yark.
Consoling Yark's family was not a difficult task.
Valen had already made thorough preparations for this.
Everything was so perfect.
There was not a single flaw.
Fortress Pharos.
"This is xenos technology. The primarch is walking a very dangerous path," High Marshal of the Black Templars, Amalrich, said with disgust, looking at the towering steel spire that rose into the clouds before him.
"But we have no choice," said Regulus, the Mechanicus Archmagos, whose entire body had been converted into machinery.
His entire body was mechanical, his size immense, no less than a heavy tank.
He could only maintain movement using anti-gravity suspensors and hydraulic mechanical prosthetics.
Thick cables connecting numerous weapons and exploratory equipment for research made him appear very bulky.
Archmagos Cawl had entrusted Regulus to come and investigate the Pharos beacon and send the relevant data to Macragge.
"What are the results of the research?" Amalrich suppressed the disgust in his heart.
"This is classified, and your task is merely to guard the beacon, not to understand it," Regulus' voice, emitted through the speaker built into his abdomen, refused to reveal any information.
Amalrich frowned, "Don't I even have the right to know what I am guarding?"