"So it's you... Magnus."
Vulkan's voice was low.
He gripped Dawnbringer. The warhammer—which had once pierced through Magnus's chest during the Siege of Terra—was glowing faintly hot, as if it, too, sensed its master's emotional turbulence.
At this very moment, even Vulkan truly felt an urge to swing this hammer and smash it hard against that crimson face.
However, Vulkan was, after all, Vulkan.
He endured it. His volcano-like body trembled for a brief second before returning to tranquility.
In Vulkan's memory, Magnus should have been beyond saving long ago.
What a tragic and bitter memory that Great Heresy was.
As the Siege of Terra began, Vulkan had accepted their father's highest command, taking on the ultimate insurance policy of total mutual destruction.
If everything was lost, Vulkan was to immediately activate the power of the Talisman of Seven Hammers, an artifact that would destroy the Golden Throne.
Such an action would easily eradicate every demon and traitor on the battlefield, while dealing an unimaginably catastrophic blow to both the Imperium and the Chaos Gods alike.
It was a task that brought Vulkan excruciating pain.
Not only that, Vulkan also bore the mission of defending the Sanctum Imperialis—and the Daemon Primarch who had launched a direct assault on the throne room happened to be Magnus.
They had fought an earth-shattering battle.
Vulkan still remembered how he shattered all of Magnus's illusions. He told Magnus that he was nothing more than Tzeentch's puppet, and that even his memory of seeing the Emperor one last time was flawed.
Magnus had believed he surrendered to Chaos for justice and revenge, but the truth was that the last uncorrupted fragment of his soul had broken into the throne room to beg his father for salvation, only to be turned away with a heavy heart.
Under such a crushing blow, Magnus broke down. He fell to his knees, begging Vulkan for release, and even wept as he apologized to their father.
Vulkan felt compassion at that moment. He truly believed it—believed that his brother could still be saved.
But it was all a lie.
The moment Vulkan lowered his guard, Magnus unleashed an unimaginable psychic shockwave that tore his entire existence to shreds.
Had Vulkan's nature as a Perpetual not forced him to regenerate on the spot, the outcome of that battle might have been entirely different.
In the end, Vulkan raised his hammer and successfully banished Magnus, bringing a temporary close to the ordeal.
With such deep grievances between them, seeing Magnus again stirred a feeling within Vulkan that was impossible to put into words.
Especially...
As Vulkan looked at the gloomy-faced Magnus before him, he realized he couldn't reconcile this Primarch with the Magnus in his memory—one who had been drowning in corruption for far, far too long.
Ultimately, Vulkan simply said: "You've changed."
"Yes, I have."
Magnus nodded, calmly admitting it. "Vulkan, to be honest, I may have never experienced days clearer or more peaceful than this in my entire life. I have come to deeply understand the sins I committed."
He slowly rose from his throne.
The towering figure caused Vulkan to frown slightly, but soon his eyes widened in amazement—Vulkan could not detect a single trace of corruption from the Chaos Gods within Magnus's entirely unnatural Warp-form.
How was this possible?!
Vulkan was at a loss.
Magnus stepped forward, coming to a halt in front of him.
The Cyclops's voice was deep and slow: "I have recalled where it all began. Everything I went through was Tzeentch's grand design. Back then, I was completely blind, entirely failing to realize it, and even venting my hatred onto our father. That was my mistake."
Thinking back on his past experiences, Magnus couldn't help but shake his head bitterly.
He remembered that scene all too clearly.
During his fateful exploration of Prospero, Magnus had discovered a magnificent giant bird statue made of multicolored crystals.
The moment he glanced at it from the corner of his eye, it collapsed into fragments. The shattered shapes and their structural arrangements happened to reveal the supreme principles of Warp dynamics.
Magnus had blindly immersed himself in it, treating those so-called bits of wisdom as priceless treasures, developing the psychic arts of Prospero, and foolishly believing he had mastered the ultimate truths of the universe.
And now, having cast off that fanatical and blind state, examining that past with a truly lucid mind...
Magnus had only one thing to say:
Tzeentch, could you not use such an insultingly stupid trap to lead me into a ditch?
And yet, he had walked right into it! Just like that, enticed into an abyss of damnation by a simple, clever trap.
That was what brought him the deepest shame.
Vulkan remained silent for a moment before asking, "What are you doing here?"
"Atoning."
Magnus was concise.
"I won't attribute everything to Tzeentch. Even if Tzeentch manipulated my mind, I had my own flaws. It was I—who, even as a Primarch—failed my duty, committing unimaginable sins against humanity and the Emperor. I am atoning for that."
He slowly waved his hand.
As that massive palm swept across the void, the structure of this domain began to unveil itself to Vulkan.
The silent space before him was completely empty—it was merely Magnus's domain of self-exile.
Here, he constantly pondered, constantly repented, and constantly prayed.
Yet, beyond this layer of the domain, Vulkan witnessed a sight that left him profoundly shocked.
It was a vast, sprawling wraithbone structure.
Intertwined in an elegant and complex geometric shape, it formed a massive floating citadel within the Warp.
Eldar architecture?
Vulkan had dealt with the Eldar countless times—on Nocturne, his homeworld, the volcanic planet of his birth, he had fought endlessly against the Dark Eldar.
Yet, the sight before him once again filled Vulkan with wonder.
The souls of those Eldar bore joyful expressions, filled with unrestrained curiosity about their surroundings.
Some souls had just emerged from a pathway, falling to their knees to tremble and kiss the wraithbone floor in utter ecstasy.
They were cheering, rejoicing, and shedding tears of joy.
Naturally, these Eldar souls were completely oblivious to the two Primarchs observing them.
Even the most senior Farseers among those souls noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
Vulkan furrowed his brows.
He certainly held no fond impression of the Eldar. The long war on Nocturne had made him a witness to the cruelty of this xenos race, but Vulkan's benevolent heart counterbalanced his stance.
He knew well that the Eldar had different factions. Even with his deep blood feud against the Dark Eldar, he was unwilling to blame all Eldar for the atrocities of those madmen.
Still, this was far too bizarre.
Isn't this supposed to be the Astronomican?
Vulkan keenly identified the coordinates of this space.
The light of the Astronomican was unique across the Warp, acting like a beacon guiding human souls home.
And yet, within the Astronomican itself, Eldar souls were actually living and thriving in peace?
This was absurd. By all logic, these Eldar souls should have been burned to ashes the moment they touched the light of the Astronomican.
"You indeed don't understand."
Magnus saw his confusion and nodded. "You've likely just returned to the Imperium. The Imperium today has undergone many changes."
He turned his head toward the Eldar souls, explaining in a calm tone: "This is my act of atonement. I am responsible for fulfilling the covenant between that esteemed lord and the Eldar. Through certain anomaly items combined with my psychic craftsmanship, I can snatch all these Eldar souls away, preventing them from falling into the hands of the Ruinous Powers."
"To the Eldar, this should be a matter of utmost importance."
Vulkan scanned the souls, confirming there were no Dark Eldar among them, before slowly retracting his gaze.
He turned back to face Magnus.
"So, the Eldar are now allies of the Imperium?"
"Yes."
Magnus nodded. "This, too, is my atonement. The path to redemption lies within."
With a wave of his hand, more details unfolded before Vulkan's eyes.
Using this realm as an anchor point, those Eldar would continuously undergo resurrection.
Upon returning to the real universe and obtaining physical bodies, they would fulfill the ancient covenant between the Imperium and the Eldar, joining battlefields across the galaxy.
Death was no longer terrifying, for their souls would no longer fall into Slaanesh's clutches. Instead, they would return to this wraithbone sanctuary to await their next rebirth.
They no longer feared death.
For the Imperium, this meant a steady stream of xenos allies appearing on the battlefield.
And that meant saving countless lives of Imperial citizens.
Vulkan nodded slowly.
Such mercy, such a win-win arrangement, aligned perfectly with his beliefs.
A Primarch was meant to be a savior of humanity and protector of life.
This was good.
This was truly good.
"I understand."
A touch of relief entered Vulkan's voice. "You were redeemed by that mysterious figure and have successfully stepped onto the path of redemption."
He had come to realize it.
Setting everything else aside, just moments ago, Vulkan had felt that miraculous, incredible power that effortlessly pulled them away from Gork and Mork.
"Yes."
Magnus sighed with sincere emotion. "He freed me from Tzeentch's grasp and restored my sanity. Although I'm not entirely sure whether I would fall back under Tzeentch's control if I left this space he personally crafted—I will certainly never test those waters."
"I am completely convinced that the Four Gods of Chaos will meet their end at his hands. Humanity will reach a definitive conclusion, and this universe will gain a truly bright future."
He spoke so directly, so unreservedly.
Such candid words brought genuine delight to Vulkan.
A slight smile slowly formed on his stern, obsidian-like face.
"However, considering you might still not fully understand—"
Then, Magnus shook his head.
"Some things are best observed together."
He lightly raised his hand, gathering a faint point of psychic light at his fingertips.
With a wave of his arm, the boundary of the domain began to turn transparent, and the distant vistas of the Warp flooded into view like an incoming tide.
Vulkan raised his head.
Following the line of sight, he looked toward what was unfolding in the distance.
Then, he held his breath.
Even as the God of the Forge, even as the Lord of Drakes who had witnessed countless grand battles, he was thoroughly awed by the sheer magnitude of the sight.
Gork and Mork—the two green deities as massive as living celestial bodies—were thrashing wildly in the Warp.
Their forms were incomprehensibly vast. Violent energy surged like an inverted blazing sun, crashing down with thunderous impact.
Green Waaagh! energy formed a churning ocean around them; a single surge was enough to swallow an entire sector.
Yet none of it had the slightest effect.
Figure after figure moved steadily within the storm.
They were the Luos' Ans. Compared to Gork and Mork, their bodies were as tiny as specks of dust, yet they stood unshakeable like stars rooted in the void.
The savage attacks capable of crushing anything vanished silently upon meeting them, like crashing into a wall beyond human comprehension—fading into nothingness without raising a single ripple.
Incredible Warp fluctuations were manipulated effortlessly at the hands of the Luos' Ans, then rendered completely inert without a trace.
Gork and Mork roared and struggled with all their might, but their gigantic forms seemed trapped in an invisible web. Every movement became impossibly laborious, and every counterattack was dismantled with ease.
They were being suppressed, controlled, and stripped of any chance to resist step by step.
It was glaringly obvious that Gork and Mork were losing ground.
Vulkan stood frozen, his crimson eyes reflecting every detail of the divine battle in the distance.
He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest—a shock he hadn't experienced in over ten thousand years.
Is this truly something humans can accomplish?
The question exploded in his mind, only to be swiftly eclipsed by an even stronger thought.
Following right behind it was an uncontrollable surge of wild joy.
Such unreasonable, grand power—it was the ultimate mockery directed at the Ruinous Powers who had caused endless tragedies!
At this moment, Vulkan was filled with hope.
Even though he had yet to officially return to the Imperium or see firsthand how the people lived under human rule, Vulkan could already vaguely feel it—a future far more beautiful than anything he could have ever dreamed of.
The path ahead was bright.
"Wait a moment."
Magnus's voice suddenly cut in. It was an extremely abrupt shift.
Vulkan turned his head sharply, looking at him in confusion: "What happened?"
Magnus didn't answer right away. A light so sharp it was almost blinding flashed across his single eye, his massive frame abruptly tensing up.
His gaze locked onto a point in the seemingly empty void of the Warp, where a subtle yet irreversible change was quietly taking place.
The threads of fate began to fluctuate, trembling frantically in a manner that defied all normal rules.
It was the harbinger of action from those entities hidden deep within the depths of Chaos.
"I can see fate changing; the Warp is shaking."
Magnus said.
He turned his head to meet Vulkan's gaze. For the first time, a look of profound gravity appeared on his crimson face.
"It is the handiwork of the Ruinous Powers."
Magnus spoke word by word.
"The Four Gods of Chaos have mobilized."