As Ge's cry of "Silence!" fell, the surging psychic energy within Magnus was instantly stifled, as if an invisible giant hand had seized his throat. The sorcery circuits he took such pride in snapped and stalled in a heartbeat!
He wasn't the only one interrupted. His Thousand Sons Legion—warriors who had immersed themselves in the ways of the Warp for countless years—felt this overbearing force at the exact same time. Their connection to the Warp was severed instantly, and the psychic power in their bodies dried up like a pond being drained. Without their powers, these sorcerers were more fragile than ordinary Astartes.
Suddenly, ripples shimmered across the battlefield. Ender Pearls glowing with an eerie green light were precisely hurled into the fray. In the next second, a tide of gold-and-blue steel emerged!
A sea of Ultramarines, appearing like blades of vengeance born from the void, instantly flooded the battlefield. They completely surrounded the stunned Thousand Sons who had temporarily lost their strength. Gunfire erupted! Bolters roared! Chainswords shrieked!
The slaughter began.
Magnus and his progeny did not give up all resistance. Ge's ability did not strip them of power permanently; it forcibly interrupted it. As they fought, they struggled to mobilize the Warp once more. But just as their psychic energy flickered like a candle in the wind, threatening to ignite a spark—
"Silence!" another roar echoed.
The hope they had just kindled was ruthlessly snuffed out again. Ge simply stared at them, a cold sneer on his lips. He stood his ground without doing anything else, acting like a patient hunter waiting for his prey's every futile struggle. He wanted them to experience the despair of seeing a sliver of dawn only to be immediately plunged back into deeper darkness.
Guilliman had already informed him of the "glorious deeds" of Magnus and his legion. To someone as "patriotic" to the core as Ge, traitors deserved the most extreme torment!
Lacking his psychic protection, Magnus was as fragile as a child before Guilliman. Guilliman's icy fist had already arrived!
Bang!
The first punch shattered the arrogance and mockery on Magnus's face.
Bang!
The second punch snapped off one of the twisted horns on his head, a symbol of his mutation and power! Magnus didn't even have time to gather his strength to resist. Guilliman's fists fell like a torrential storm. Each punch carried ten thousand years of fury and the wails of the Imperium's countless victims.
Guilliman's strength was no longer what it used to be. After being reinforced by Ian's Power of Faith and the Imperium's multiple upgrades, he was no longer the Primarch of ten thousand years ago who relied solely on tactics and intellect. Now, he was the perfect fusion of strength and wisdom! His earlier "openings" were merely an act to play along with his "dear brother."
Now, it was time for the reckoning!
The agonizing pain jolted Magnus awake from his humiliation. He couldn't die here! He absolutely couldn't! He decisively detonated most of his remaining psychic energy! The violent energy exploded like a bomb, temporarily forcing Guilliman back.
Seizing this brief gap, Magnus mustered his last bit of strength to forcibly tear open a rift to the Warp. He had to escape! Escape back into the embrace of Chaos! Before stepping into the portal, he endured the pain and fear, turned around, and spat a venomous curse at Guilliman.
"Just you wait, my brother!" his voice was hoarse and distorted. "The Imperium of Man is about to perish! Your good days are numbered!"
"Twelve True Gods from different worlds are hunting that False God and your New God in the Warp right now!"
"So what if you've reclaimed lost territory? They won't last long! Once they fall, you will be like fish on a cutting board, for me to slaughter as I please!"
He glared savagely at Guilliman and glanced at Ge nearby. "When that time comes, you—and that fellow over there with the nauseating ability... I will come back personally and torture you well and slowly!"
With that, Magnus stepped into the Warp portal with his final shred of hope.
However... one of Ian's clones, currently "mob farming" in the Warp, happened to sense this familiar, weak spatial fluctuation.
"Hmm? Found an interesting little thing. One-eyed, sunburned Ogryn Magnus?"
A mischievous smile curled on the lips of Ian's clone. With a slight flick of his finger, an imperceptible force was quietly injected into that portal.
Magnus plunged into the portal, expecting to return to his familiar Chaos palace built of sorcery and bone. However, the sight before him caused his soul to freeze instantly. The pungent smell of blood and a thick, inescapable aura of failure rushed at him.
This wasn't his palace! This was a... slaughterhouse for deities?!
Shattered divine power drifted through the void like dust. On the ground lay several female Dark Gods in bizarre forms, radiating atmospheres both familiar and strange?! One of them he could vaguely recognize as the source essence of Tzeentch, but what was with that shameful posture?!
On the other side, the Emperor of Mankind was straddling a massive lump of flesh—similarly twisted into a female form—and was punching it with raw, bone-deep ferocity! He could even sense the faint, nearly extinguished essences of the parallel universe Dark Gods being toyed with in the hands of the Imperium's New God like pieces of trash!
In an instant, a flood of questions filled his mind. Why had the Khorne, Tzeentch, and Nurgle of this universe turned into these unsightly forms?! Why were the otherworldly Dark Gods so broken?
Magnus shook violently, cold sweat instantly soaking his magnificent robes. His proud psychic vision revealed a truth that nearly tore his heart asunder!
How could this be?! Twelve Dark Gods! Powerful entities from different times and spaces! How could a guaranteed victory turn into this?!
A sense of terror he hadn't felt in tens of thousands of years gripped his heart. He couldn't help but raise a hand to wipe away the non-existent sweat on his forehead.
Just then, in the center of the battlefield, Ian and the Emperor—who were enjoying the thrill of beating the Dark Gods—simultaneously sensed this uninvited guest. Two gazes, as sharp as physical blades, locked onto Magnus instantly.
Faced with those stares, Magnus's legs went weak, and he almost fell to his knees. He shook like a leaf as he stammered, his voice carrying a sob, "I... I was just passing by to visit. Maybe... maybe today isn't a good time. Please continue, don't mind me!"
With that, he turned, wanting to dive back into the portal that hadn't fully closed to slip away.
However, just as he took a step, a hand appeared out of thin air. It grabbed his remaining horn like a steel vise, effortlessly lifting his massive body. At this moment, Magnus desperately wished Guilliman had broken his other horn earlier.
Then, Ian's face, wearing a playful smile, appeared before him.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave, my most 'filial' son," Ian's voice was light, yet it carried an unquestionable authority. "You've arrived just in time."
Before his voice had even faded, Magnus felt himself being tossed out by Ian like a piece of trash! The target was the Emperor, who had just stopped his work and was watching everything with an icy gaze!
"Your 'good son' is yours to handle," Ian's voice drifted over. Simultaneously, he casually tossed out several Infinity Ingots, firmly pinning the female Nurgle—who was already limp as mud and groaning faintly—to the spot. "I'll suppress this lump beneath you for now."
Magnus tumbled uncontrollably through the air. He mobilized all his remaining strength to try and change his trajectory, only to find it was all in vain. He was utterly powerless against that force!
With a dull thud, his back slammed hard into an incredibly tough, golden-glowing object. The impact didn't make him feel lucky; instead, it made him shake even harder.
Magnus turned his head with great difficulty. He met a pair of golden eyes burning with ten thousand years of fury, disappointment, and an indescribably complex emotion.
The Emperor was looking down at him, and Magnus could see that his face was as black as the bottom of a scorched pot.