In the deepest reaches of the Subspace, in that realm constructed of pure paradox and endless possibilities, incomprehensible to mortals.
The Crystal Labyrinth was silently and eternally shifting its own structure.
Every second, billions of corridors collapsed, and billions of spires were reborn.
Light here lost its physical properties, becoming a tangible, twistable entity that refracted countless futures that were happening or had never happened.
At the core of the labyrinth, in that Impossible Fortress constructed from nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine lies and conspiracies.
The Lord of Change, Chaos God Tzeentch, was joyfully admiring His masterpiece.
Before Him lay a chessboard so vast it was boundless.
Upon the chessboard flowed billions of threads woven from the essence of souls, shimmering with different lights.
Every thread represented the destiny of a mortal, a hero, a world, or even an entire race.
He was the Weaver of Fate, the manipulator of Hope, the supreme deity of conspiracy.
He gently plucked a grey thread.
In a corner of the material universe, an Astra Militarum Commander who had held the line for hundreds of years led their entire regiment into an alien encirclement due to an incorrect coordinate, resulting in the annihilation of the entire force.
He then, with great interest, twisted two golden and black threads that should never have intersected together.
Thus, a holy Battle Sister fell in love with an Inquisitor she was supposed to purge as a heretic, and both eventually perished in a fire of mutual betrayal.
This was His pleasure.
This was His game.
He was Change itself, the greatest artist in the universe, and these destinies that struggled, sank, and finally perished at His fingertips were His proudest works.
Among all His works, the one He was most satisfied with was undoubtedly the thickest thread, intertwined with crimson and deep blue light.
That represented His most perfect creation, His most interesting pawn—the "Red Cyclops" Magnus.
It was a soul filled with knowledge, pride, love, and regret.
Every mistake he made in the pursuit of truth, every pain he suffered from good intentions gone wrong, brought Chaos God Tzeentch unparalleled, supreme pleasure.
He had already laid out the final and most magnificent stage for him.
He would, amidst the flames of his homeworld's destruction, the wails of his slaughtered progeny, and the extreme agony of being betrayed by the entire universe, completely abandon all his ridiculous convictions and finally throw himself into His embrace, becoming the most powerful Daemon Prince under His command.
This would be His most perfect conspiracy in ten thousand years.
A great victory sufficient to boast of for an entire era to His three foolish brothers.
He could already sense the sweetness of the coming victory.
Suddenly.
Chaos God Tzeentch's countless, ever-changing eyes froze simultaneously.
His hand, which was plucking the threads, also stiffened in mid-air.
Hum—!
That crimson thread representing Magnus's destiny, the thread that should have been slowly sliding into the abyss according to His script, began, without any warning, to vibrate madly and violently at a frequency that defied all prophecy and logic!
That was not a struggle.
Not a resistance.
But rather as if some power from outside the chessboard, from a higher dimension, was forcibly twisting its direction!
"Hmm?"
A syllable filled with confusion, composed of countless overlapping voices, echoed through the castle.
For the first time, Chaos God Tzeentch felt a trace of... surprise, amidst His eternal, unchanging pleasure.
He cast His gaze, capable of perceiving thousands of futures, toward the twitching thread, attempting to see its future path clearly.
However, He failed.
What He saw was not the thousands of futures where Magnus knelt before Him, accepting His blessing.
Nor the other thousands of possibilities where he was slain by the Space Wolves and his soul dissipated in regret.
What He saw was a pure, absolute, and unadulterated... nothingness.
It was a deep, warm, and pure black, like before the birth of the universe.
Before this "blackness," all His authority over "change," "possibility," and "schemes" lost its meaning.
It does not play games with you.
It does not trade with you.
It simply exists there quietly, telling you with an absolute, irrefutable stance—this, is "Truth."
And "Truth" does not contain "change."
"What... is this?"
Chaos God Tzeentch's ever-changing form experienced a violent fluctuation for the first time.
He could not understand.
In His cognition, everything in the universe should be changing, and everything should be manipulatable.
Absolute "Truth"?
This itself is a paradox! It is a joke!
He let out a shriek of confusion and anger.
He mobilized more of His primordial power as the Lord of Change, attempting to forcibly tear open that black nothingness to deduce the truth behind it.
Countless futures, like shattered mirror shards, flashed madly before His eyes.
Magnus became an interstellar pirate.
Magnus turned into a wandering comet.
In one ridiculous future, Magnus even opened a noodle shop.
But no matter which future, no matter how bizarre the process, the final outcome, without exception, pointed toward that unfamiliar, warm, and pure black void.
It was as if that was the only, final destination for all fates.
Finally.
Chaos God Tzeentch's wisdom, capable of toying with the entire galaxy, finally allowed Him to realize the key.
The problem was not with the pawn.
But outside the chessboard!
There was a hand!
A brand new hand, not belonging to the Emperor, not belonging to any alien, and not even belonging to His three foolish brothers, was reaching toward His chessboard!
Reaching toward His most precious, nearly completed collection!
In an instant, feelings of anger overwhelmed Him.
This was the most thorough provocation and blasphemy against Him as the god of "Change"!
But the next second, this anger was replaced by a more intense, more primitive ecstasy called "greed"!
Unpredictable!
Incalculable!
Incomprehensible!
Hahaha... Hahahahaha!
It has been ten thousand years!
A full ten thousand years!
Ever since that pathetic "Emperor" sat on the Golden Throne, the script of this universe had become so dull, so boring!
He had not felt such... surprise for too long, too long!
A brand new variable!
A brand new player!
A brand new, greater, more interesting "change" was about to arrive!
A brand new game worthy of Him personally entering the field to toy with, dissect, and collect!
"Interesting... too interesting!!"
Chaos God Tzeentch's ever-changing voice, filled with ecstasy and greed, echoed madly throughout the Crystal Labyrinth, causing countless space-times to tremble.
"An unpredictable variable... a 'Truth' walking in the material universe..."
"Who exactly are you?"
"No matter who you are, you, and my Magnus, will become the most perfect... collection on my shelf!!"
Chaos God Tzeentch's will, like a supernova cast into the ocean of the Subspace, stirred up monstrous waves.
...
Meanwhile.
"genesis," highest strategic bridge.
Leticia had just issued the order to lock onto the target.
The next second, on the system light screen before her, the window representing Magnus's avatar was suddenly covered in blood-red color!
A cold, mechanical warning prompt box popped up suddenly, emitting a piercing alarm sound.
[Warning: The locked target "Magnus" has been deeply anchored by the higher-dimensional entity "Lord of Change."]
[Rescue difficulty for this operation has been raised to: Desperate.]
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