This war, which concerned the survival of all mankind, forced all the forces of the Imperium to be thrown into it.
Many Rogue Traders were conscripted to join the ranks of logistics, transporting supplies to the combat zones.
Horus abandoned the push-style conquest, calling back the rear Legions and dispersing them into the stars to strike at pirates and xenos, suppress planetary rebellions, and ensure the stability of the deep rear.
Fulgrim roamed the void, continuing the Great Crusade and showcasing the might of the Imperium.
Sending a signal to those with ill intentions: even in the face of a massive galactic war, the Imperium of Man still had the strength to spare Legions for outward conquest.
Deep within the libraries of Prospero, Magnus was pacing in an anxious circle.
After being grounded by his father, he did not dare to peer into the Warp again. However, during every meditation, dense Astropathic Choir Messages continued to flood into his ears.
The Imperium was facing a great enemy!
The Crimson King wanted to lead his Legion into battle, using occult knowledge to strike the enemy and show his brothers the power of psychic abilities.
He was desperate for the Thousand Sons Legion to gain respect.
The Legion's situation was unique; when Magnus took over the Legion, there were fewer than a thousand Space Marines.
The somewhat sorrowful name "Thousand Sons" originated from this.
With the Primarch's return to the Legion, their numbers began to slowly recover, but in the eyes of other Legions, the Thousand Sons were not yet considered a complete Legion.
The mortal members of the War Council suggested that since the Thousand Sons lacked the capability to participate in the main routes, they could simply conduct free exploration.
While the suggestion was logical, for an Astartes Legion, it was undoubtedly a subtle humiliation.
Therefore, the Thousand Sons had to win honor!
The Thousand Sons had to use a victory in a major battle, under the gaze of other Legions, to make their brother Legions stop looking down on them.
Even if excessive participation in war and heavy use of psychic powers would trigger the curse of flesh-change mutation, they still had to go to war.
Magnus wanted to board a ship and leave Prospero immediately, leading his Legion to strike as a key force and shine brilliantly in the war.
But he did not dare to defy the Emperor's majesty and leave just like that.
Under the grounding order his father had issued in a fury, he dared not take action, pacing the library daily.
Magnus's heart was nearly torn apart by contradiction.
He prayed his father would come quickly to deal with him and take all responsibility so the Legion could join the war sooner; yet he feared his father's arrival, bringing a judgment upon the Legion and imposing even harsher punishments.
Those who possess knowledge are often cursed by it—thinking too much leads to hesitation.
Exhausted physically and mentally by the future, Magnus suddenly looked up, a mix of surprise and worry appearing in his eyes.
Naturally sensitive to psychic energy, he felt a fluctuation in the Warp, mixed with a familiar aura.
His Father, the Emperor, had arrived!
"Everyone, assemble at the plaza." Issuing the summons with a psychic spell, Magnus hurried along, his crimson feet treading upon the floor.
The Legion Warriors received the Primarch's command, interrupted their meditation, walked out of the pyramid-shaped libraries, and came to the plaza to wait.
They looked up and saw the Emperors Dream entering orbit.
Crash~~~
The Thousand Sons warriors knelt like a tide; their Primarch had committed an unknown great error, and the Emperor coming in person was surely to call him to account.
Magnus jogged into the midst of his scions, kneeling on one knee and looking up at space as a golden shuttle descended from the sky, a powerful pressure washing over them.
Under the heavy pressure, sand and stone trembled, and the bodies of the Astartes could hardly hold themselves up; even the stone slabs beneath their knees cracked.
The Emperor's majesty distorted gravity, causing pebbles to float in the air, while the souls of those kneeling felt as if they were being torn from their bodies, pinned heavily to the floor.
His head hung down unwillingly, cold sweat dripping from his forehead, Magnus's crimson hair clung to his cheeks.
He still did not understand exactly what disaster he had caused to make his father's anger so unbearable.
The Emperor was indeed consumed by uncontrollable rage.
On the way here, his anger had dissipated quite a bit, but seeing Magnus caused it to surge again.
Magnus, this rebellious son! He had never taken the warnings to heart, constantly peering into the Warp, his curiosity toyed with by the Chaos Powers, nearly resulting in a catastrophic mistake.
If not for Blazkowicz, Sanguinius, and Lion—the three of them joining forces to repel the Chaos invasion—the Soul Binding plan would have already collapsed.
The moment he saw him, the Emperor's good mood crumbled, leaving only a blazing fire of anger burning in his chest.
"You should be grateful," Valdor spoke slowly; the Emperor did not even want to communicate directly with his son, letting the Commander of the Imperial Guard relay the message instead.
Magnus looked up against the pressure, seeing his father's golden armor, and carefully squeezed a few words from his trembling throat: "What did you say?"
The Emperor wanted to open his mouth to answer, but closed it again; how could he explain the reasons?
Be grateful that the plan didn't fail because of Magnus's recklessness, making him feel less of an urge to strangle his son?
Standing before his son, the Lord of Mankind felt not only anger but also a sense of helplessness; he could not clearly voice that powerlessness.
When a mortal son makes a mistake, a father can hit or scold him; these are all within reason, and it is perfectly natural for a father to educate his son.
But a Primarch was different.
Great beings are born with enlightened minds and know many truths; hitting and scolding cannot solve the problem.
The Emperor could not educate a Primarch with a stick like a mortal father, especially in front of the Space Marines.
"While being grateful, you should also thank your brothers," Valdor spoke again, his eyes carrying personal emotion—a silent reproach from above.
Magnus clenched his fists, his crimson eyes staring at the Commander of the Imperial Guard in silent resistance.
He was a Primarch; the Emperor could punish him, and his brothers could blame him, but he would not allow anyone outside his blood kin to criticize him.
This was the innate pride of a Primarch; no matter what, it was not the place of the Commander of the Imperial Guard to voice an opinion.
Valdor read the look in his eyes, shook his head slightly, and withdrew his personal emotions.
He sincerely pitied Magnus, pitied the ignorance beneath the stubbornness; because of that ignorance, the Crimson King had nearly brought the heavens crashing down.
"They stood before the darkness and mitigated your foolish crimes," Valdor sighed deeply, the Emperor speaking through him: "Saving countless humans."
Magnus lowered his head; he was no fool and could naturally hear the weight in his father's words—how heavy they were.
He could not say anything to make amends; the event had passed, and no one could turn back time.
Now, the only thing he could do was kneel and endure everything, waiting for his father to announce the deserved punishment.
"What is your view on the Warp now?"
The question sent a shock through Magnus. He didn't know why his father asked, or what answer he wanted to hear.
He remained silent for several seconds, and the Emperor did not rush him.
The Lord of Mankind looked at his son, and beneath the golden light, a hint of disappointment flashed in his eyes.
It was obvious that during his grounding, Magnus had been terrified and had thought of countless punishments, but he had not reflected on the previous warnings.
The Warp is dangerous; one must have reverence and restraint, and not let the temptations within sway one's thoughts.
The Emperor still remembered back then, when communicating with his son through consciousness, how he had constantly reminded him what to watch out for.
It seemed Magnus had not grasped the true meaning behind it; even after committing such a great error, he had not seriously reflected.
"I should not have disregarded the warnings and acted on my own," Magnus said after a few seconds, his head bowed so his expression could not be seen.
In his heart, he still persisted, believing there was nothing wrong with seeking knowledge and truth, and that this was simply an accident.
"I will be careful in the future—"
Before he could finish, the spiritual pressure suddenly spiked; the Space Marines could no longer support their bodies and collapsed to the ground one after another.
They could not see the Emperor's figure; their eyes felt incredibly heavy, and they felt the golden light becoming more and more dazzling, almost becoming a second sun!
Magnus propped his palms on the ground, breathing heavily, his heart pounding violently, his eyes becoming even more crimson from bloodshot veins.
He knew he had said the wrong thing.
"Naive." It was still Valdor speaking, his tone stern, like the roar of thunder: "If it weren't for Blazkowicz and the Doom Slayers, do you know the consequences?"
Hearing the question, Magnus used all his strength to look up at his golden father, his eyes filled with grievance and a desire for knowledge.
He wanted his father to tell him personally: what exactly were the so-called "consequences"?
Valdor said heavily: "Besides Blazkowicz, there were Sanguinius and the returned Lion El'Johnson."
The golden halo behind the Emperor's head swayed; he was shaking his head, enduring that total disappointment.
"If it weren't for Blazkowicz, the foolishness you committed would have—" Valdor did not continue, standing while leaning on the sun spear.
"Would have killed two of your brothers." The Emperor spoke for the first time, his magnificent voice booming like a thunderclap, exploding in the sky of Prospero.
Boom—!
Thunder exploded in Magnus's mind, leaving him dizzy and lightheaded; his tall frame collapsed, his consciousness a chaotic mess.
In the plaza, the Emperor's words blew away the trembling and struggling.
The Legion Warriors and the Gene-Father lay flat on the ground, giving up resistance; at this moment, they finally realized where the Emperor's full-blown rage had come from.