There was no wind here—only thick, golden mist that never dispersed.
Darkness. Nothingness.
Step, step, step—
Golden-armored Custodians in the ornate armor of the Aquila advanced cautiously, wielding their signature Guardian Spears to clear the way. Magnus and the Emperor's fifth son, Jaghatai Khan, followed behind the heavily armed, solemn Imperial Palace guards toward the end of this shattered Webway passage.
A Webway city.
Once belonging to the ancient Aeldari, it now belonged to the Imperium of Man—to the Emperor himself. It was his most secret city.
"..."
Even after ten thousand years, Jaghatai Khan still loathed lingering within this unfamiliar city of the dead—not merely because he knew their time was short.
But because this city, dead twice over, had become a monument to two fallen galactic empires—a shared memorial of failure.
The Webway city's builders, the countless ancient Aeldari, had perished here during the great calamity that birthed the Chaos Gods from their decadent indulgence. Their pitiful souls had forever become the fodder and playthings of the Dark Prince of Pleasure.
The Emperor believed he would not repeat the Eldar's mistakes. He took control of the long-abandoned Webway city beneath Terra, a dead realm devoid of its former Aeldari masters, and with high hopes sought to repair and perfect it—placing humanity's future dream of ascension upon the Webway Project.
With the Emperor's boundless knowledge and the Mechanicum's ingenuity, humanity connected this ancient section of the Webway to the newly constructed Imperial passage leading to the Golden Throne itself.
Yet, despite all the precautions—everything still failed.
The Emperor of Mankind, conqueror of the galaxy, lost everything in a single, decisive act.
His dream, humanity's future, was annihilated by a psychic transmission between father and son.
The fifteenth Primarch's soul burned like a star—Magnus's immense psychic power, swollen by his own sense of righteousness and fueled by mortal sacrifices upon Prospero, inadvertently shattered the fragile barriers of the Webway.
If the ancient Aeldari Empire had been destroyed by six million years of unending indulgence and decadence, then humanity's fall began with the failure of the Webway Project.
The Webway's collapse, the spreading Warp rifts beneath Terra, the invading daemons and malice from the Immaterium—all forced the Emperor to suppress the expanding Warp breach with his own body, robbing him of his ability to walk among mortals.
Indirectly, this chain of events led to the death of Malcador the Sigillite, the fall of [Sanguinius] the Lord of Baal, and the Emperor's grievous wounding at the hands of his son [Horus], blessed by the Four Gods...
Too many of humanity's tragedies could be traced back to the ruin of the Webway Project.
"Everyone knows the great traitor [Horus] was the bastard who ruined everything, that the Word Bearers are the vilest of heretics. But [Magnus], my accursed brother—you are the true sinner. The unforgivable traitor."
Jaghatai Khan closed his hawk-like eyes, his voice cold as iron despite the faint sorrow that lingered in his tone.
"..."
Magnus, thoughtful, shifted his gaze away from the motionless Custodians—whose bodies bore no hint of Honkai energy fluctuation—and cast a sidelong glance at the suddenly poetic, melancholic Khan beside him.
"It wasn't you. My apologies, distant brother. Our family tragedy must look ridiculous to you." Khan sighed wearily, as if feeling Magnus's eyes upon him.
"I understand."
Magnus said no more. He could feel the immense resentment that clung to this city of death, flowing through his veins. It was strange—almost wondrous.
In that moment, Magnus seemed to glimpse, from the edges of his vision, their ghosts—or rather, the remnants of their souls.
Fragments of luminous golden spirits flickered from behind collapsed towers, from the shattered arches of broken avenues. They were but echoes—lingering afterimages of lives lost in the city's long-forgotten siege.
"The other me who ruined everything... I truly wish I could meet him. Execute him with my own hands, interrogate his soul, and ask him why he became what he is now."
"Pity," Jaghatai Khan murmured, "their base of operations lies within the Eye of Terror—the Planet of the Sorcerers, isn't that right? That's under the jurisdiction of Lord General Budo, along with Perturabo, Mortarion, and the others."
"Indeed," Magnus replied. "According to the latest reports, Horus and Angron have also begun their purgation campaign against the Eye of Terror. Of course, they're not the ones you knew... If there's a chance, I could introduce you to them."
Suddenly curious, Magnus asked, "And that [Magnus]—what kind of man is he? How does he differ from me?"
Jaghatai Khan was silent for a while, then offered a faint, almost teasing smile. "A psyker with a strong body."
"Only his physique and psychic power are notable, then..."
For a Primarch—a ruler of an Imperial sector and commander of countless armies—that was hardly praise. In fact, it bordered on an insult.
"But what about you?" Khan countered. "The Emperor is not an easy being to deal with. You follow me, without hesitation, into the very heart of the Imperium... no regrets, no doubts?"
It was a question asked in both directions—for both of their Emperors.
"My mission is loyalty."
"I see."
Receiving the answer, the two exchanged faint smiles before continuing forward behind the Imperial Custodians along an unusually wide avenue.
They passed countless grand war engines and endless mounds of golden corpses and bones. The Emperor's Custodians had once numbered in the tens of thousands. They were the Emperor's greatest achievement apart from the Primarchs themselves—yet most had fallen here.
If the Custodians of the Imperial Palace had been reduced to this many corpses... what would Her Majesty do? The thought itself was chilling.
"At last, Magnus."
Finally, at the far end of this tomb-like city of death, a deep, immense voice echoed—heavy with anticipation.
It was a golden radiance without origin or direction, enveloping everything in a hazy light. Vast ripples of golden energy surged through the space—each wave like translucent crystal, clear and pure, yet within them pulsed something akin to veins of living blood.
The unimaginable, cold brilliance of psychic power gathered into one—the pure framework that sustained the very continuation of the Webway.
It was also the pillar that connected the sacred Terra through the Webway, suppressing the expanding Warp fissure and sealing the rift that would otherwise consume both Terra and the Throne World—a colossal jade pillar holding up the heavens, a violet-gold beam spanning the sea.
"Come forth."
In an instant, countless voices merged into one overwhelming cascade.
Magnus clutched his head in agony—the sound felt like billions chanting at once beside his ears: pain, sorrow, anger, longing, excitement, and even the desire for death... all stormed through his mind like a psychic sandstorm.
His eyes flared with blinding violet-red light. He raised his hand instinctively.
Bzzzzzzzz—!!!
The icy, piercing golden light pressed against him as though to bore straight through his eyes. A familiar sensation of transference followed—it reminded him of the feeling when Her Majesty Selene transported them between palatial chambers. The next moment, his senses vanished.
The vertigo came and went swiftly. When Magnus felt the ground beneath his feet again, his eyes snapped open.
The noise hit him at once—metal clashing, the deep hum of overloaded power lines.
Clatter—
Winged skull-servitors hovered back and forth through the air. Countless bio-mechanical thralls labored tirelessly at the Emperor's secret machines.
The Golden Throne—vast and towering—still hummed with its dark, ancient mechanisms, constantly under expansion and repair even after millennia. The low, rumbling drone of its power source sent shivers crawling up Magnus's spine.
This was no mere life-support system—it was a torture device of unprecedented scale, designed to drain and bind mind, flesh, soul, and energy alike.
He could tell at a glance.
You've been sitting on this thing for ten thousand years?!
Magnus was shaken—unsure whether to feel awe at the Emperor's indomitable will, or horror at the sheer torment the Throne must inflict.
"Don't tell me..." he whispered, his voice dry, "you actually intend for me to take your place on that?"
Behind the Emperor's towering Golden Throne, a massive structure dominated the wall—the colossal gate of the Webway.
The vast circular gate no longer revealed the realm beyond, nor did it show the sand-colored walls of the Throne Hall behind it.
The Custodians and the secret Magi of the Mechanicus had tried everything—destroying the gate, detonating the surrounding machinery, cutting off its power supply—but they had only managed to keep it half-shut. It would never close again.
On the other side of that gate, something malevolent refused to let the wound heal.
At the base of the throne dais, hundreds of Custodians clad in ornate, full-body golden armor stood guard with Guardian Spears in hand. The two in front were especially striking—their customized, lavishly detailed armor caught Magnus's eye.
So similar.
That aesthetic—too similar!
Standing still, Magnus watched as the Emperor's image shifted constantly before his eyes.
Soon, the image settled. He saw a shriveled, mummified face—filled with endless pain. A lifeless corpse sat upon that towering throne.
"Trajann, Constantin—step aside. Jaghatai, well done... Magnus, fulfill your promise. Take my place."
The Emperor's voice was urgent, impatient. His hollow, sunken eyes stared directly at Magnus—as if a prisoner longing for the key to his chains.
Though Selene's gift had accelerated the Emperor's restoration of humanity—and though [Finality]'s consumption of extreme emotion had eased his burden—the psychic waves of this brief communication still pushed the limits of what even the Custodians could endure.
Even the servitors laboring in the Throne Hall began to falter under the psychic pressure. Blood dripped from their noses, tears of blood filled their eyes. Some froze mid-motion, systems overloaded.
With a solemn, scarred face beneath his great helm—the Castellan Plate—and the Watcher's Axe in hand, Captain-General Trajann Valoris exchanged a brief, conflicted glance with Magnus before stepping aside.
The Custodians had never trusted the Space Marines—especially not a Primarch suspected of treachery.
But the Emperor's command overrode all else.
Without hesitation, Magnus, under Jaghatai Khan's silent gaze, advanced step by step through the Custodians' unwavering defensive ring. The crimson giant's violet-red eyes met those of every golden sentinel he passed.
Including Trajann.
And at the highest step, just one below the Throne itself, stood another formidable Custodian—arms crossed, silent, but sharp-eyed. Perceiving Magnus's gaze, he spoke briefly:
"Constantin Valdor."
Thud... thud...
At last, Magnus stood before the withered corpse upon the Golden Throne.
Click... crack...
Under the horrified stares of the Custodians, Magnus reached out and touched the Emperor's frail body.
A surge of psychic energy exploded through him—memories, visions, floods of data. Magnus absorbed what he needed: the process by which the Emperor powered the Golden Throne. He understood the steps. And he understood the task Selene had assigned him.
Sit upon it.
During the time between the Emperor's death and his resurrection—when he walked the material world once more—Magnus was to take his place.
Maintain the Astronomican. Prevent Terra from being consumed by the Warp rift. Ensure the Throne World did not become a second Eye of Terror.
That was his mission.
His 'Empress'—Selene's calm voice echoed in his mind.
Crack... crunch...!
In an instant, before anyone could react, Magnus struck with the speed of lightning—sweeping the Emperor's frail body from the Golden Throne. The metal conduits that transmitted the Emperor's immense psychic power dimmed, and the Astronomican's light trembled.
"Heretic! Traitor—!"
Too fast. Before the Custodians could raise their Guardian Spears to strike down the desecrator, Magnus sat upon the Golden Throne.
Sparks crackled—!
His violet-red eyes flared with cosmic light. A torrent of overwhelming, alien Honkai energy erupted through his being, reinforcing his pseudo-Herrscher body. The sheer energy that could collapse stars and shatter worlds now poured into the Throne.
"Hah... hah... I have no idea how you endured this for ten thousand years..."
The endless sensation of being drained—his very cells crushed and wrung dry—was beyond all imagination. After only moments, Magnus half-joked to himself that he should recommend this device to Perturabo for interrogation use. It was certainly... effective.
Without hesitation, Magnus manifested the Honkai Cube Selene had granted him and gripped it tightly.
Crack!
Zzzzzzz—!
The entire Throne Hall blazed red-hot under the violent friction of Honkai energy particles. The air sizzled.
Hummmmmmmm—!
From the Golden Throne, the Astronomican's light changed dramatically. The golden hue slowly deepened into violet-red, dyeing both heaven and earth—until even the Throne World itself seemed to dissolve into a magnificent sea of Imaginary Space.
"The Emperor of the natives! Go forth! Fulfill the will of my Empress!"
"Of course..."
From the massive corpse Magnus had swept aside, golden radiance poured forth, denser and purer than before. The voice that followed was serene—almost relieved.
At that very moment, countless eyes turned toward the changing Astronomican.
One by one, the Daemon Princes of the Dark Gods—the betrayers—sensed the Emperor's death.
For immortals, death was never the end.
"The Curse... returns!"
...
[Warp]
"Damn it!"
As the whispers of his daemonic concubines reached him, Fulgrim—the Daemon Prince of Slaanesh—lost all trace of his former composure and elegance. The inner wars of the Chaos Gods had forced him to abandon his endless feast of souls, and now this?
He could no longer afford to waste time flirting with the arch-seductresses of the Pleasure Fortress—or with his many lovers.
Not even to repel the advancing Honkai Beast legions, born from the crystalline Sea of Thorns belonging to Finality.
"Summon Harmony! Assemble the Legion—quickly!"
—
—
40 Advanced Chapters Available on Patreon:
Patreon.com/DaoOfHeaven