Just as Magnus was happily pushing his wheelchair backstage to the arena, several fully armed Black Legion Soldiers appeared before him, surrounding him.
Magnus stopped his wheelchair, a look of confusion and impatience on his face.
"Finally you're here. I thought you good-for-nothings would be stopped by Victor's guards," Magnus leaned back on his wheelchair armrest and said lazily, "Tell me, what does Abaddon want to do next? I'll tell you first, I'm not going back to the Eye of Terror. Tell Ahriman to come find me."
However, the Black Legion Soldiers did not respond. They stood silently, their weapons all pointed at Magnus. The leader spoke coldly, his voice mechanically chilling:
"Uncle Mag, you have failed. You now need to return with us to the Eye of Terror. Although you are now 'unfavored by the Chaos Gods / The Four Gods,' the Warmaster needs you to regain his lost prestige."
Magnus raised an eyebrow slightly, a look of sudden realization on his face. He slowly raised his hand and pointed to himself: "What if I refuse?"
The Soldier did not answer, merely silently disengaged the safety on his weapon, the muzzle emitting a low hum of charging energy. This silent reply was enough to explain everything.
Magnus was silent for a second, then suddenly slapped the armrest of his wheelchair and burst into wild laughter, throwing his head back. He laughed so hard he clapped his knees, as if he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Hahahaha! You idiots!" Magnus's laughter gradually subsided, and he adjusted his glasses, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "You dare lay hands on me? Do you know who you're shooting at?"
At this moment, the leading Black Legion Soldier walked up to Magnus, raised his Bolter, and aimed it at Magnus's head.
"You are now nothing more than... a cripple, a useless man who has lost his psychic powers."
Just as the Black Legion Soldier raised his Bolter and aimed it at Magnus's head, the "cripple" in the wheelchair suddenly moved.
Without any warning, and without the glow of psychic power—Magnus, using only his massive physique, instantly grabbed the Soldier's wrist. The armored wrist made a clear "snap" under his immense strength, directly deforming.
He exerted force, pulling the Soldier's arm, man, and gun all at once, then swung his right hand like a meteor hammer, striking directly at the opponent's helmet.
With a loud crash, the high-grade power armor helmet was instantly shattered. The Soldier's head, along with fragments of broken armor, flew out, hitting the wall behind him and turning into a blurred bloodstain.
The other Black Legion Soldiers were stunned by this scene. Who would have thought that a Primarch who had been completely crippled could still unleash such astonishing power? But they quickly recovered, and their weapons were all aimed at Magnus.
"Cripple?" Magnus looked down at his wheelchair, a playful smile on his lips. "Perhaps, but even a crippled me is a thousand times stronger than you wastes!"
That's right, a crippled Primarch is still a Primarch. A starved camel is still bigger than a horse. Many people always thought that Magnus's combat prowess was on par with Lorgar and Guilliman.
But in reality, Magnus was a pure mage and rarely engaged in close combat. The only time he fought in close combat, he lost to Russ, who is ranked among the top 5 Primarchs in combat effectiveness, and even then, it was considered a draw.
Many only remember Russ breaking Magnus's spine, but they forget that Magnus also knocked out one of Russ's hearts. Both were unconscious and carried away on stretchers by their respective sons.
Magnus raised his hand to catch the Bolter, looked down at it, and sneered, "First time using a gun..."
Then, with a single flick of his hand, he swung the Soldier whose head he had exploded like a sandbag at another enemy beside him, sending both to the ground.
"Fire!" The leading Astartes roared, and the others quickly raised their guns, firing continuously at Magnus.
However, Magnus had no intention of retreating. He violently pushed his wheelchair with both hands, using his explosive arm strength to make the wheelchair slide rapidly sideways, while simultaneously raising the stolen Bolter and firing with precision.
"Bang!" The first bolter round hit one of the Soldier's chest plates, and the powerful explosion directly sent him flying.
Magnus's movements were fluid and graceful. He spun the wheelchair with one hand, while gripping the gun with the other and continuing to sweep fire, each shot hitting the weakest armor seams of the enemy.
After several rounds, the Black Legion's formation was completely broken. Soldiers were either groaning on the ground or fleeing in disarray. But Magnus did not stop there.
He slammed the Bolter hard onto the armrest, producing a harsh clang, then violently pushed the wheelchair with one hand, charging straight towards the remaining Soldiers.
One Soldier attempted to counterattack, but Magnus directly snatched his Chainsword, and with both hands, he forcefully broke the sturdy weapon in half as if it were a tree branch.
The next second, he wielded the hilt of the broken Chainsword, directly smashing the Soldier's helmet, sending the man and his armor crashing to the ground, unable to move.
"Useless!" Magnus threw down the Bolter and pushed his wheelchair forward again. His arms were like steel, full of power, and the speed he burst forth with made it impossible to tell that this was a man paralyzed from the waist down.
Magnus looked at the corpses on the ground, then at the Alpha Warrior who had just appeared at the backstage entrance.
"Are you going to stop me too?"
The Alpha Warrior did not speak, merely picked up his weapon. Just as Magnus was preparing to fight the Alpha Warrior opposite him... a combat dagger was plunged into the Alpha Warrior's back. At this moment, Magnus looked surprised, because the one who killed that Alpha Warrior... was another Alpha Warrior.
The air backstage suddenly fell silent, with only the faint sound of the dagger being pulled from the wound. The fallen Alpha Warrior's body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and blood quickly spread out.
Magnus narrowed his eyes, coldly watching the Alpha Warrior still holding the dagger. His expression changed from anger to scrutiny, finally taking on a hint of confusion and wariness.
"Who are you... what are you doing? You killed your own battle-brother..." Magnus asked in a deep voice, his hands still tightly gripping the wheelchair armrests, ready to exert force again at any moment.
The Alpha Warrior slowly straightened up, looked down to adjust his armor, then returned the dagger to his waist. His movements were oddly elegant, as if this were just a routine task.
"Don't misunderstand," the Alpha Warrior said in a low voice, his tone as calm as ice.
"My target is not you, nor anyone else here."
Magnus sneered, raising a hand to point at the corpse on the ground, "Your mission is to backstab your comrades? The Alpha Legion's reputation is bad enough; are you trying to make it even worse?"
The Alpha Warrior shrugged, offering no reply.
Magnus did not relax his guard, still staring intently at the other party. Although he always disdained the Alpha Legion's treacherous methods, he had to admit that their actions were always full of unpredictable danger.
"What's your name?" Magnus asked.
"My name?" The Alpha Warrior chuckled softly, then whispered, "Who we are isn't important... what's truly important is our plan."
He took a small step forward, his tone becoming low and carrying a hint of warning: "Your current position, and your choices, are part of destiny."
"Destiny?" Magnus snorted coldly, slapping the armrest of his wheelchair, "My destiny has long been utterly destroyed by those hypocritical beings. Now you want me to go back? What a joke!"
The Alpha Warrior stared at Magnus, his eyes showing no ripple of emotion. He seemed not to have heard the rebuttals, merely stating in a low voice: "Then, what is your choice?"
Magnus was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected the other party to ask such a question. The question seemed calm, yet it hinted at something deeper.
"My choice?" Magnus sneered, "It's simple: to continue on my own path. At least, I need to return to Terra first and think of a way to get Father back to preside over the big picture."
The mysterious man nodded slightly, a nearly imperceptible smile playing on his lips.
"Very well," he said, turning and walking towards another door backstage, his voice drifting back from a distance,
"I hope you can always stick to your choices, Brother Magnus. The next time we meet, perhaps we will be on the same side... or on opposing battlefields."
Suddenly, Magnus's single eye widened. His hands braced on the armrests of his wheelchair, wanting to stand up. He watched the retreating figure of the other party... He had too many questions he wanted to ask his brother... And the question he couldn't ask just now was... "Are you Alpha, or Omega...?"
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