"Master Ahriman, what exactly is the situation now? Where has the Primarch gone?"
The newly revived Thousand Sons warrior, like several others, was full of questions.
Ahriman, however, chose to bury his head in the sand, feigning deafness to these inquiries.
He gritted his teeth, analyzing the current situation.
Ahriman still had four sufficiently powerful Chaos artifacts left in his hand, and this Psyker barrier could hold for a little longer.
But he himself was nearing his limit; at most, Alexander could lead him around like a dog three or four more times before he would collapse.
Too beastly! Too beastly! He's practically Erebus!
Ahriman, who had traversed the galaxy for ten thousand years, had never encountered such a beastly opponent.
This couldn't even be called a battle!
Ahriman recalled what Magnus had told him before the war: "That entity is now confined within a mortal shell, so fragile that a single witchfire could take his life."
To this, Ahriman only wanted to curse Magnus' entire family.
Alexander's body was indeed fragile, but Ahriman didn't even have a chance to get close to him. Alexander had clearly never considered fighting a real battle with Ahriman.
Throughout the entire war, the two were caught in a cycle: Alexander revived Thousand Sons, Greater Daemon threw them into the Warp, Ahriman went to rescue them, and then got shot.
Ahriman's only reason for holding on until now was to wait for either Kairos or Magnus to achieve their promised victory.
Now Kairos had already lost, and there was no news from Magnus' side.
Even if Magnus eventually killed Sanguinius, he probably wouldn't arrive in time before Ahriman was killed by the combined forces of Alexander and Guilliman.
Ahriman gritted his teeth.
If it was just to defeat Alexander, Ahriman had one last option.
To take that position, to carve out his own place in the Warp, to become a complete Warp entity, to ascend to a higher form.
Ahriman always had this opportunity.
Perturabo sacrificed hundreds of Imperial Fists gene-seeds to Chaos and ascended to become a daemon Prince of Chaos Undivided.
And what Ahriman sacrificed to Chaos was his entire Legion.
He was the master of the red word network, the arcane focal point of all Thousand Sons Psyker power.
He had killed almost his entire Legion, sacrificing nearly all his brothers to the Warp.
So many sacrifices, so many deaths, enough to grant Ahriman the profound blessings of the Warp.
Those souls confined in armor, that destiny of being dust—everything gave Ahriman the chance to become a higher-level entity.
He spent ten thousand years searching for that moment of ascension, viewing ascension to a higher-level entity as a way to save his brothers, and finally discovered the method of ascension in the Eldar's Black Library.
But Ahriman despairingly realized that if he ascended to become one of the competitors for those positions in Chaos, becoming an entity similar in rank to Ynnead, Vashtorr, and Alexander, then his brothers would be utterly beyond salvation.
Once he began to ascend, the timeless nature of Chaos would begin to take effect.
And the foundation of his ascension was the red word, the very destruction of the Thousand Sons Legion. Once the ascension was complete, this fate would be fixed.
From the past to the future, the destruction of the Thousand Sons would become an undeniable fact at every point in time, just as Slaanesh's birth brought the Eldar an inevitable doom. The curse of 'all is dust' would hunt every person with Thousand Sons blood across the past and future.
Ahriman now no longer dared to borrow more power from the Warp; he could already vaguely feel the existence of that position.
"Ahriman."
Alexander's voice rang out at this moment. He revealed a gentle smile and called out to Ahriman with an earnest and friendly voice:
"You seem to be running out of strength. I can let you leave."
Ahriman was slightly stunned when he heard these words.
"You and Magnus, and Tzeentch, actually have no conflicts of interest."
Alexander continued with a smile:
"I know you don't trust the promises of the gods, so I won't make any promises. I'll just use practical benefits to persuade you."
"I will help you revive a few Thousand Sons, and all I ask is for you to leave."
A flash of light burst forth in front of Ahriman's eyes. Alexander's words were like a spider silk hanging down from hell, allowing Ahriman to see a glimmer of hope.
He guessed that something had gone wrong with Sanguinius, and Alexander needed to rescue Sanguinius as soon as possible, so he didn't want to waste any more time with him.
"Revive two hundred of my brothers, and I will withdraw." Ahriman shouted loudly at Alexander.
"Ten. We're on a battlefield right now. Where do I have the time to revive them one by one for you?" Alexander immediately rejected Ahriman's proposal.
"Then will you just watch Sanguinius die?" Ahriman felt he had grasped Alexander's weakness.
But Alexander merely gave Ahriman a strange look, as if asking what nonsense Ahriman was spouting.
"Sanguinius hasn't died before."
Alexander said calmly:
"Since I can revive him once, I can naturally revive him a second time."
"Do you think reviving the dead is a difficult thing for me?"
As he spoke, Alexander casually revived another Thousand Son.
But this time, he didn't throw him into the torrent of the Warp; instead, he directly controlled Greater Daemon to throw him into Ahriman's barrier.
"This is the first one." Alexander said to Ahriman.
"..But ten is too few!" Ahriman swallowed slightly, suppressing the excitement in his heart as he shouted.
"It's not like I burned all your brothers to ashes!" As he spoke, Alexander revived another Thousand Son and threw him towards Ahriman.
Ahriman quickly caught him with his Psyker power and placed him by his side. "Reviving a few more won't take much of your time!"
"Alright then, just for good luck, I'll revive twenty-two of your brothers. Twenty-two is my sacred number."
Alexander grinned, knowing that Ahriman had taken the bait:
"But I want that copy of Magnus' book in your hand."
Ahriman, hearing this, almost without hesitation, took off the precious copy of Magnus' book from his waist.
Although he might have guessed that Alexander's original intention included this copy of Magnus' book, being able to exchange it for twelve more brothers was, in Ahriman's opinion, completely worth it.
Ahriman threw the copy of Magnus' book to Alexander, and Alexander revived the remaining twenty Thousand Sons and threw them one by one to Ahriman.
Finally, Ahriman nodded slightly to Alexander. He seemed somewhat satisfied, then he led the Rogues and disappeared into the tides of the Warp.
Alexander glanced at the tracking image mirror in his hand, which had already reflected Ahriman's figure, then quickly began to act according to the plan.
He directly stuffed Ahriman's copy of Magnus' book into the four-dimensional pocket, then took out the copy he had obtained in the Black Library, as well as a pair of intertwined orange and yellow shoes.