"Ahriman! Don't save me! Do what you must!"
"What exactly is going on? Ahriman! Where is our Legion?"
"Why have the other brothers become unconscious puppets? Do you know what happened, Ahriman?"
"Who did this! Who made our brothers like this? Give me back my Legion!!!"
Ahriman was almost driven mad by the torment. His power armor was covered in bullet holes and scorch marks, and nine of his flying discs had already been destroyed.
Beside him, four resurrected Thousand Sons warriors stared blankly at their surroundings, frantically asking Ahriman what was happening.
Why, in the blink of an eye, were they standing on a shattered Webway?
Why had their other brothers turned into puppets with their souls bound to their power armor?
And who exactly was the enemy they were fighting now?
Faced with these questions, Ahriman's choice was... to remain silent.
He was like a mute, but the words of these four resurrected warriors still constantly assailed his heart, making him feel a tearing in his soul.
"Are you ready, Professor A!"
A mocking voice rang out from a distance. Ahriman stared with bloodshot eyes at that beastly and malicious bastard.
Alexander grinned and placed his hand on another Thousand Son captured by the Greater Daemon.
Alexander had repeated this trick four times already.
He would grab a Thousand Son, resurrect him, and then throw him into the Warp current nearby, forcing Ahriman to rescue him.
Then he would seize the opportunity to unleash a barrage of attacks on Ahriman, while his Astartes would also use this chance to assault the positions held by the eight Great Sorcerers and the Thousand Sons.
He even deliberately calculated the distance, throwing the resurrected Thousand Sons warrior just far enough for Ahriman to rescue him.
Ahriman, however, had no way to deal with Alexander. He couldn't even withdraw the Thousand Sons.
Because, after all, Alexander was truly resurrecting the Thousand Sons.
If he could save one of his brothers, Ahriman was willing to put himself in danger.
It was just that Ahriman wasn't sure how much longer he could last.
He could only hope that Kairos, Magnus, or Abaddon would achieve victory and come to his aid.
Suddenly, Ahriman heard a sharp cawing sound. He felt the power of the Lord of Change flowing across the battlefield—
"Throw him!!!"
Before Ahriman could fully process it, Alexander's voice suddenly rang out.
The Greater Daemon threw the resurrected Thousand Sons warrior into the Warp current.
Ahriman rushed out of the barrier in a hurry.
"Roar!!!"
Guilliman, stepping on Kairos, let out a painful growl.
Almost at the moment Guilliman was about to decapitate Kairos,
Kairos' eight-spell incantation inexplicably strengthened significantly, as if some power from a higher existence was manipulating the fate of the battlefield.
More and more negative emotions surged from within Guilliman—not just those from his resurrection, but deeper, older sorrows, pains, self-reproach, and struggles accumulated over the years, all gushed from the depths of Guilliman's heart.
The anger and sorrow from Calth's burning pierced his ribs; the constraints, shame, and fear from the Second Imperium dug into his legs; the resentment, guilt, and pain of not reaching Terra in time bound his hands; the despair and grief of watching the Emperor burn on the Golden Throne choked his neck; the terror, pain, and desolation of being killed by Fulgrim made his head spin.
Sharp bird cries circled around Guilliman, and a powerful spell drew out all the sorrow, pain, and fear of Guilliman's life.
The spell even seemed alive, digging out the fear most likely to breach the walls of Guilliman's sanity.
A horrifying scene appeared before Guilliman's eyes.
He saw the old woman with golden braids, dressed in Macragge's attire, watching her burn fiercely in the fires of death, watching Konrad Curze's claws choke her neck, watching her slowly walk towards death.
That was the scene in Guilliman's heart most likely to break his mental defenses, dug out by the Lord of Change to utterly crush him.
"Mother..."
Guilliman struggled in agony, roaring, but his body felt only a sense of powerlessness.
Kairos let out a sharp laugh. He flung Roboute Guilliman off him, letting the Ultramarines warrior fall to the ground like a limp rag doll.
The fate woven by the Lord of Change was irresistible. Guilliman's defeat was already sealed, and Tzeentch's Chief Greater Daemon couldn't help but let out an arrogant and conceited laugh.
He raised his Staff of Tomorrow high, and scorching witchfire burned fiercely.
"You dare!!!!" An angry roar came from Mephiston nearby.
But the moment the Lord of Change's power descended, it also acted upon Mephiston. The two distorted, time-summoned versions of himself quickly vanished under the Lord of Change's power to twist fate.
And the three Lords of Change suddenly surrounded Mephiston, holding him for a few moments.
Kairos raised his staff high, wielding swirling azure sorcerous flames down at Roboute Guilliman.
Guilliman, however, felt his body weak and in pain. Those dark emotions were like chains, tightly binding his body, making him unable to move an inch. Even his senses gradually dissolved in pain, and all he could see was sorrow and darkness.
He tried with all his might to raise his hand, to raise the scorching Emperor's Sword, but his arm was cold and stiff, as if it had died.
But just then, a faint, soft, and weak pair of hands rested on Guilliman's arm.
Those hands were very small compared to Guilliman, and the strength within them was so faint that it was weaker than even a mortal warrior of the Ultramar Auxiliary Army.
But Guilliman felt a slight warmth surge through his arm.
The illusion that the Lord of Change had dug out from Guilliman's heart to defeat Guilliman himself stood before him.
The slender, aged old woman gently raised Guilliman's arm.
Knowing that she was not the person Guilliman yearned for, she didn't even possess a physical form; she was merely an illusion woven by the Lord of Change, a phantom, a weapon made from the depths of Guilliman's fear.
But perhaps the 'her' in Guilliman's heart would have done just that, or perhaps the Lord of Change's spell had a tiny deviation, or perhaps even in death, she was still using her faint power to protect Guilliman.
The phantom moved, gently raising Guilliman's arm.
The phantom seemed to say something to Guilliman. Guilliman didn't hear it clearly but felt the tenderness in the words and understood their meaning.
"I love you, my child."
Then the phantom shattered, leaving Guilliman with only an extremely faint trace of power.
Kairos let out a resentful cry, striking the Emperor's Sword from Guilliman's hand with the Staff of Tomorrow.
It was a mystery how he still had that last bit of strength to raise the Emperor's Sword and block one of Kairos' attacks.
Tzeentch also let out a resentful caw. This was a small deviation, unexpected by Him.
But it didn't matter, everything was still according to plan.
Thanks to Khorne holding back the cursed one, Tzeentch was able to exert His power over the battlefield.
He enhanced Kairos' spell, weakened Mephiston, and aggravated the wound on Sanguinius, causing the battlefield situation to change dramatically.
But that was all He could do.
Even if Khorne and the cursed one were temporarily locked in a fierce struggle, Nurgle had already demonstrated His force field with His actions, and while Slaanesh had not yet moved, the Lord of Change could feel Her snake-like gaze fixed on Him.
If Tzeentch dared to pour more power and attention into the battlefield, Slaanesh and Nurgle would surely seize the opportunity to attack His domain.
However, this was enough. Fate could no longer—
"Gah?" Tzeentch stared blankly at the fate before Him, watching it inexplicably and silently veer off course.
Mephiston broke through the blockade of the three Lords of Change and rushed fiercely towards Kairos and Guilliman.
But the two Lords of Change who were originally guarding Kairos suddenly rushed over again, intercepting Mephiston with a series of spells.
They could at most trap Mephiston for a few seconds, but a few seconds were enough—enough for Kairos to kill Guilliman.
Kairos knew he had already won, even without his prophetic abilities.
Unless the spell strengthened by the Lord of Change suddenly weakened drastically or even ceased,
Unless new hope, joy, and other positive emotions suddenly surged from the depths of Guilliman's heart,
Unless His and the other seven Lords of Change's powers suddenly weakened drastically,
Otherwise, Roboute Guilliman would surely fall at his hands—
Kairos suddenly noticed that one of the eight spells surrounding him had decreased, becoming seven spells.
"Roar!!!!"
Reyna's low growl, imbued with powerful Psyker energy, rang out nearby. She had brutally torn off the head of a Lord of Change.
Her Psyker power, amplified by both the high-efficiency pills and the Portable Pyramid, was too immense. To control this Psyker power, most of Reyna's cognitive abilities were consumed.
She didn't even notice the crisis unfolding nearby, relying only on instinct to fight the Lord of Change.
The Lord of Change whose head she had torn off instantly disintegrated and vanished on the spot.
And the spell supported by this Lord of Change naturally also vanished.
Kairos stared blankly at this scene. Originally, even with one less, seven spells would have been enough to continue suppressing Guilliman.
But for some reason, as if the number seven itself possessed power, Kairos felt the entire incantation become stagnant, sluggish, and weakened.
Damn... He even felt a bit of a stomach ache. How strange.
Numerology posits that numbers themselves possess power.
But to Kairos, this was utter nonsense.
The reason sacred numbers worked was solely due to the gods' favor. The Lord of Change liked the sacred number nine, so his followers, those who served Tzeentch, would use the number nine to please Tzeentch. If Tzeentch was truly pleased, then the Lord of Change would bestow additional power.
This was the true reason sacred numbers were effective. Numbers themselves held no power; they were merely symbols.
Just like blue, bird feathers, tomes, and single eyes were symbols.
Numbers shouldn't possess power!!!
It shouldn't be like this! It shouldn't be like this! It shouldn't be like this!
"Ah ah ah ah ah uh uh uh uh uh!!!!"
Kairos' two heads suddenly elongated, and a ridiculous, gurgling, abstract sound continuously emanated from between his legs.
Splat!—
Streams of colorful liquid incessantly flowed from between Kairos' legs, pooling into a viscous puddle on the ground.
Not just Kairos, the other six Lords of Change also let out terrified screams, and soon, similar colorful, thick liquids began to gather at their feet.
Kairos' two heads, with all four eyes, rolled back, and his tongue protruded from his bird-like beaks, twitching in mid-air.
"Ho...how could this be?"
"No...it shouldn't be like this..."
Kairos wailed, watching the seven spells, meticulously woven from incantations, falter and stagnate. Uncontrolled Warp energy surged back into the bodies of all seven Greater daemons.
This wasn't even the most dangerous part; the strange bacteria that had always lurked within them also began to stir.
These bacteria had originally been restrained and suppressed by Kairos and the others' magic, but as their number dwindled to seven, the power of these bacteria seemed to suddenly amplify, wreaking havoc within the seven Lords of Change.
Even Kairos, as the Chief Greater Daemon, was unable to resist for a time, as if these bacteria were their natural bane.
"No! Don't! Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!!"
"My knowledge! My knowledge! It's flowing out! It's all flowing out!"
Kairos' two heads simultaneously wailed, twisting his body and struggling incessantly:
"No! My precious knowledge! Don't flow anymore!"
"I can't! I can't hold it in oh oh oh oh oh!!!!"
Compared to Kairos, who could still somewhat suppress it, the other Lords of Change were in an even more dire state.
Their knowledge gushed out like a waterfall.
"Lord Kairos!!! I can't suppress it!!!"
"Don't pull anymore! Don't pull anymore! I'm scared!"
"Lord of Change above, is this also part of the oh oh oh oh plan?!"
Mephiston watched this scene, dumbfounded.
He couldn't help but turn his head away; this abstract scene was simply too impactful for his mere few centuries of life.
As for Guilliman, after the spell began to stagnate and falter, he felt a significant portion of his strength return.
This spell itself relied on inducing negative emotions from Guilliman; the darker Guilliman's mood, the stronger the spell's restraint.
But looking at this unbearable scene, the only emotion Guilliman could display was silence.
He silently stood up, wordlessly igniting the Emperor's Sword, its scorching blade, imbued with the Emperor's Psyker power, shining brilliantly like a lighthouse in the deep night.
Kairos' attention, however, was not on Guilliman at all.
"My knowledge, don't leave me! Don't leave me!"
"Oh oh oh oh! All the knowledge in my brain is going to be expelled!"
"No, I can't, I need to reabsorb the knowledge!"
"No, I can't do that. If I lie on the ground absorbing knowledge, my career as a Greater Daemon will be over!"
Kairos' heads shrieked, arguing with each other; his left head proposed an idea, and his right head refuted it.
But ultimately, the craving for knowledge overcame his thoughts. Kairos directly sprawled on the ground, his feathers stained with the colorful, viscous liquid, his two heads pressed against the ground.
Guilliman's face crumpled, and he brought down the Emperor's Sword upon Kairos.
The bloodson chainaxe, once Angron's, roared like thunder. The daemon possessing Khârn permeated every fiber of his flesh, transforming him into a scarlet, twisted daemon.
Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!
Intense hatred surged forth with the fusion of daemon and human; the shared, powerful emotion granted their combined body unparalleled strength.
In the Warp, will is everything, and Khârn's will for revenge was even stronger than his anger.
Wings woven from hatred and blood quivered, and under the impetus of Warp power, his exposed arm swelled and grew claws. The iron chains, mimicking those worn by Nuceria gladiators, intertwined with his flesh.
The fires of revenge and rage blazed furiously along the chains, connecting all the way to the roaring chainaxe.
Khârn let out a low growl, suddenly flinging the bloodson. The burning chain arced through the air, pulling the axe blade to heavily smash into the left shoulder of Slyth Slithmuks, the Chief Gardener of Nurgle's Garden.
Then Khârn suddenly exerted force, using the fleshy wings on his back to leap in front of Slyth Slithmuks, the Chief Gardener.
The Chief Gardener seemed to feel no pain, gripping his gardening shears with his right hand and stabbing towards Khârn's chest.
But the daemon residing within Khârn controlled Khârn's left hand, which had become a twisted claw, to collide with it.
Khârn seized the opportunity to tighten his grip on the axe handle, yanking the bloodson from Slyth Slithmuks' shoulder. Putrid, poisonous blood splattered everywhere.
"Kill! Slaughter! Burn and kill!" A savage war-cry erupted from Khârn's mouth.
The bloodson roared deeply, a wave of blood and fire crashing heavily onto Slyth Slithmuks' neck.
With a direct hit, the chain-saw, forged from mica dragon teeth, severed the cervical spine, sending the one-eyed Nurgle daemons' head spinning into the sky.
The twisted skull counter in the corner of Khârn's eye jumped, indicating he had completed another skull KPI.
He gasped for breath, watching his fleshy body gradually return to human form.
Meanwhile, Raum, the daemon parasitic within Khârn's body, writhed and half-emerged from Khârn's torso, gnawing at Slyth Slithmuks' body, which was slowly dissipating on the ground.
This act caused immense pain to both himself and Khârn; both felt as if their bodies were being torn apart, as if every molecule in their flesh was being twisted by the profane energy of the Warp.
Khârn and the daemon inhabiting him were both well aware of the drawbacks of devouring other daemons, especially daemons from other domains, yet both still chose to do so.
While enduring the pain of his body being twisted by the profane Warp energy, Khârn looked at the situation on the battlefield.
The Gloriana-class Battleship, Vengeful Spirit, was heavily damaged by the "seeds" Nurgle had embedded within the ship, while her loyalist sister, Macragge's Honour, continuously circled the crippled Vengeful Spirit, unleashing firepower.
Abaddon was barely managing to pilot the Vengeful Spirit to contend with it; two great human-built warships were performing a dangerous dance in the Warp.
Watching this war and iron dance, Khârn inexplicably thought of the old War Hounds'—no, the World Eaters' Gloriana-class Battleship, Conqueror.
Captain Lorgala Sarine's soul was probably still lingering on that battleship.
Since merging with the daemon that once inhabited Angron, Khârn felt his mind gradually able to suppress his rage and think in a relatively rational manner.
Khârn withdrew his gaze from the two Gloriana-class Battleships.
Although the Gloriana-class was the Primarch among warships, the outcome of this war could probably only be decided between Primarchs.
The battle between the Vengeful Spirit and Macragge's Honour was not important, far less so than the battle erupting on Tizca's Revenge.
The battle between Sanguinius and Magnus.
"The Lord of Change has intervened, munch munch munch," the daemon possessing Khârn said to Khârn while gnawing on Slyth Slithmuks' remains.
"Now it just depends on what the one behind Sanguinius will do, munch munch munch."
"Then the key is Ahriman," Khârn said, looking at the daemon who was still munching on the corpse. "It depends on whether Ahriman can hold off that one..."
"What the hell are you doing, Magnus?!"
Ahriman protected the newly resurrected Thousand Sons warriors, retreating back into the barrier.
This Psyker barrier was woven from the Chaos artifacts Ahriman had accumulated over ten thousand years, burning brightly.
According to the original plan, Magnus would defeat Sanguinius or Kairos would trap Guilliman, and then one of them would come to support Ahriman.
But the current situation was that, despite the Lord of Change's help, Kairos' side had still been defeated. Guilliman would soon be able to deal with him and rush to Ahriman and Alexander's battlefield.
And what about Magnus?
Most of the Lord of Change's power had gone to Magnus, to expand the wound on Sanguinius' body.
Sanguinius should have been very weak by now, but Magnus was still dragging his feet, having not yet taken down Sanguinius.
Ahriman couldn't help but grit his teeth; he had to consider how to retreat unscathed.
"Throw!"
Alexander's voice rang out again. Ahriman quickly interrupted his thoughts and rushed into the surging Warp current.
While Ahriman was thinking, Alexander was also thinking.
He was calculating the time.
According to the plan written by Guilliman, their plan should now enter its second phase.
He just didn't know how things were going on Sanguinius' side.
Alexander cast his gaze towards the link between himself and the two Primarchs.
The thread connecting to Guilliman had originally shown some fluctuations, but now it had become stable, clearly indicating that Guilliman had defeated Kairos.
And Sanguinius' side...
Alexander suddenly saw the thread symbolizing Sanguinius...a regular tremor emanated from that side.