"Let me think about it a bit longer."
What the old Eldar Farseer did not know was that, at almost the exact same moment on the other side of the galaxy, someone uttered those exact same words.
Roboute Guilliman, Lord Regent of the Imperium and Primarch of the Ultramarines, had already stepped out of his office. He spoke while looking frowningly at the scene before him.
Right now, this was the military heart of the Imperium of Man.
A massive holographic star map rotated slowly beneath the vaulted ceiling, densely marked with burning warzone indicators—a terrifying number that would cause any Imperial general to gasp.
Fortunately, thanks to the administrative reforms the Lord of Ultramar initiated upon his revival, the technological advancements brought by the Omnissiah's avatar, and the crucible of recent wars, the Imperium was no longer a sluggish giant of clay. Its sensory capabilities had vastly improved.
Those distant sectors once obscured by Warp storms could now maintain near real-time contact via new superluminal communication arrays; even the traditional Warp-based astropathic messages had grown pale in comparison.
This long-range communication capability allowed Guilliman to converse with his brother hundreds of thousands of light-years away practically in real time.
"Roboute, you truly need to make a decision quickly," Sanguinius said over the vox-link.
He was currently positioned in another distant sector of the void. His angelic face bore no extraneous expression, save for a deep concern flickering in his eyes.
"The situation is indeed very grim," Guilliman replied.
"Yes, but the good news is that I have basically deduced Chaos' general strategy," Sanguinius said at an unhurried pace, yet with an unmistakable air of certainty.
"Their first move was to remove Adam, an unpredictable variable, from the main battlefield. Thus, the Four Chaos Gods actively guided the Great Devourer across vast distances, bringing them outside the galaxy at a point in time that should theoretically be impossible, just to keep Adam pinned down there."
"And their next plan—is to ignite fires across every corner of the Imperium's domain, stretching our massive empire thin so we cannot address both head and tail."
It was a painfully obvious deduction.
Guilliman took a deep breath.
Just as he was about to speak, the holographic display broadcasted real-time feeds from Sanguinius' side.
The Angel stood on the bridge of the Phalanx. Through the expansive viewport, the burning void outside was clearly visible.
There sat a pitch-black titan.
Its surface bore a architectural style reminiscent of spirit-cages, sharp-angled and shimmering with a cold, ghostly green light.
Its volume was immense enough to rival a small asteroid.
Evidently, this was a "World Engine" or "Dead Star" belonging to the Necrons.
Such an ancient construct was far more than a mobile fortress—its dense energy shields could withstand saturated bombardment from all conventional weapons, while its equipped Gauss weaponry and Doomsday arrays possessed terrifying destructive power in realspace.
Even now, as the Imperial Navy drew upon its overwhelming numerical advantage to deploy an entire line of Gloriana-class flagship battleships, pouring frantic firepower onto the monstrosity until space itself trembled under the barrage, breaking through its shields would still take considerable time.
Indeed, the awakening of the Necrons had begun to impact the Imperium's interior.
Those ancient Overlords crawling out of Tomb Worlds had barely opened the eyes they had slept behind for sixty million years before immediately delivering a small dose of "War in Heaven" shock to these youngsters who had been swaggering across the galaxy for a mere few tens of thousands of years.
Of course, the Imperium of Man was hardly lagging behind.
Although the Imperial Navy's habitual tactic of winning through sky-darkening numbers appeared somewhat primitive before these ancient constructs, their abundant macro-cannon batteries and lances made up for the deficit.
Such a warm welcome certainly poured a bucket of ice water over those Necron Overlords who had just crawled out of their graves, still plagued by various awakening glitches.
Frankly, both sides were somewhat bewildered.
The Imperium's bewilderment stemmed from the fact that, shortly after the Siege of Cadia concluded and a brief era of "vibrant vitality and blooming potential" had begun, a brand-new xenos species emerged at blinding speed—literally "popping out of the ground" right before everyone's eyes.
The Inquisitors belonging to the Ordo Xenos had barely rested for a few days before being rushed back onto their feet, even being forced to enlist numerous Inquisitors from other Ordos to assist in the investigation.
Meanwhile, the military reorganization steadily pushed by Guilliman had to be shelved due to this sudden total war.
Units that had not yet completed their re-armament rushed hastily onto the battlefield to engage in brutal slaughters with these ancient nemeses.
And the Necron Overlords were equally baffled.
According to intelligence, wasn't this race called humanity terribly weak?
Why was their firepower so different from the recorded data?
Newly awakened Necron Dynasties often casually conquered an Imperial world with severely backward technology and mocked them relentlessly.
After all, a certain reality-warper had descended only a short while ago; though the winds of change blew outward from the Solar System, for a galactic empire whose domain was boundless, the technological gap had not been fully erased yet.
This disparity in information created immense confusion.
Thus, when the Imperial Navy's Gloriana-class main fleet arrived at the scene, those Necron Overlords hadn't even finished their taunts.
Both sides immediately engaged in brutal slaughter.
The entire galaxy was turned into a chaotic mess.
In the void before Sanguinius, the besieged Necron Dead Star was clearly no easy prey either.
War engines dormant for tens of millions of years roared at full power, the ghostly green light glowing on its Noctilith blackstone structures like the eyes of undead waking in an ancient tomb.
Surges of energy began to roar.
Inflexible waves of invisible force radiated outward from the core of the Dead Star, cleanly disabling the already flickering Void Shields of several escorts that had charged too far ahead.
The subsequent Doomsday weapons and Gauss disintegrators reduced those unshielded ships into dust—quite literally into powder.
Sanguinius stood on the bridge, watching the scene in silence. Outside the viewport, a few more clouds of drifting metal debris joined the void.
With a soft sigh, Sanguinius shook his head.
It was not yet his time to step in.
Thanks to the changes brought by Adam, the Imperial Navy did not lack super-heavy assets.
Surrounding the Dead Star at this moment were no fewer than thirteen Gloriana-class battleships, backed by the Phalanx keeping watch; victory was merely a matter of time.
Instead, he had a far more noteworthy subject to focus on.
Taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention, Sanguinius gently flicked his wrist.
A familiar red-and-white small ball appeared silently in his palm once again, held like a chess piece.
"Well, brother? What do you make of this?"
Sanguinius' voice carried a faint trace of gentle banter.
"I'm watching it while lying down."
Magnus' dismissive laughter echoed through the air, his tone laced with the unwillingness of a captive.
Hearing this, Sanguinius shook his head in regret.
His daemon-corrupted brother, captured on Cadia, had already spent a fair amount of time inside this tiny cage.
Clearly, he remained as uncooperative as ever.
In truth, toward Magnus, Sanguinius had always harbored complex emotions.
Magnus had indeed committed a catastrophic mistake—one that, in Sanguinius' eyes, was irreversible, a sin that plunged the entire Imperium into damnation.
Yet even so, the Angel was still willing to grant him a chance.
A chance at redemption.
The sins of the past were difficult to undo.
However, if he took action now, he still had the opportunity to save millions upon millions of Imperial citizens.
"Obvious as it is, your mastery over psychana is far superior to mine," the Angel said in a calm and earnest tone. "So, looking at this galaxy, what have you actually managed to see?"
Magnus fell silent.
Right now, confined within this oddly tiny space, he actually experienced a strange feeling for the first time in ages—something he had long forgotten.
A single, unified will.
It was not the twisted desires poured into his soul by Chaos, nor some paranoia and hatred originating from nowhere.
It was a consciousness that made him feel like a living, breathing human rather than an object.
This atmosphere of being able to think freely despite being trapped in a cage made Magnus deeply uncomfortable.
"Having hit a wall with your own precognition, it's only natural for you to seek my help. But did you honestly think I would quietly hand over intelligence to you?"
Finally, he spoke, his words remaining razor-sharp.
Every word Magnus uttered seemed wrapped in ten thousand years of un-dissipated resentment, as if trying to tear open those ancient wounds anew.
"You might not know this, but I still intend to seek vengeance against our 'dear father.' What he did to me isn't something that can be easily brushed aside. If you can let it go—am I supposed to just let it go as well?"
At these words, Sanguinius' expression remained unchanged.
A gentle smile even surfaced on his angelic face.
"Why wouldn't you?"
"To be honest, I am quite curious myself: why do you think Father did anything wrong to you?"
"As I see it, Father gave you plenty of guidance in this regard, didn't he? Have you really not realized who the true culprit behind all this was?"
"Inside this little ball, you should now have the ability to recall what happened before."
Magnus fell silent once more.
To be completely honest, it was true.
Unlike several other Primarch brothers who had indeed been mistreated by the Emperor—such as Mortarion and Angron, who were forcefully taken from their homeworlds—the Emperor had never mistreated Magnus. On the contrary, He had placed immense expectations on him.
Even before the Council of Nikaea, the Emperor's tolerance toward him far exceeded that toward any other Primarch.
It was Magnus himself who personally shattered those opportunities one by one.
Furthermore, within this small ball, Magnus' memories extended beyond just that.
He was now able to recall every single point of influence Tzeentch had inflicted upon his soul:
Whether it was the identity of that Warp entity who posed as a friendly presence and exerted force during the psychic ritual meant to warn Father about Horus' betrayal, shattering the Webway—
Or the fictional memory placed in his mind during the Great Heresy, spoken by Vulkan, the Lord of Drakes and his most merciful brother who had banished him, claiming he was sent to assassinate the Emperor—
As well as the bizarre anomalies caused when he attempted to restore the Rubric ritual, which ultimately led to his failure—Magnus looked back now, struck by a sudden realization.
It turned out that all those excuses he had made in his heart to defend himself—that the Emperor, that most heartless tyrant, had forced him to rebel—were entirely false.
It was all Tzeentch's fault!
Yet even thinking so internally, Magnus still refused to admit it out loud.
He remained stubborn to the core.
"It seems this approach isn't going to work," Sanguinius sighed softly, seeing his brother's attitude.
However, he shifted his tone.
"Though, I'm not entirely surprised."
Faced with his brother letting the matter slide so easily, Magnus didn't feel relieved; instead, alarm bells rang loudly in his mind.
"What are you trying to do?"
"It's simple. The fragments of your personality are still scattered and missing right now, correct?"
Although Sanguinius' tone was phrased as a question, he sounded entirely certain.
During the Battle of Prospero, Leman Russ had broken Magnus' spine with a brutal knee strike.
That was far more than a physical injury; that blow had shattered Magnus' soul, causing his soul fragments to scatter across the universe.
These fragments had even formed distinct personalities, possessing independent judgment and autonomous capabilities.
For instance, a soul fragment representing benevolence had aided the Salamanders Legion in reviving their Primarch, Vulkan; another soul fragment had fused with a loyalist Thousand Sons Chief Librarian to become the first Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights.
At the thought of this, Sanguinius nodded, his tone carrying a confident knowingness.
He recalled the story Adam had shared with him earlier.
How Adam had tracked down Sanguinius' own soul fragments scattered across the Warp, assembling them like a shattered jigsaw puzzle to reshape Sanguinius' complete will and resurrect him.
Who would have thought that he himself would now inherit this craft to perform it for this stubborn brother?
"In a few days, you won't be talking so tough anymore."
"Save your breath. Do you really think that will work on me?" Magnus' voice involuntarily spiked. "I've long gathered all of my soul fragments! This is already the complete me!"
"Is that so? Then what are you getting so worked up about?" Sanguinius replied naturally, the corners of his mouth curving into a slow arc.
Hidden within that arc was a subtle sense of mischief—a smile that was pure and angelic on the surface, yet radiated a slyness that sent a chill down one's spine.
"However, if all goes smoothly, when the time comes, you and I can perform another prophecy together. Perhaps then we can breach the heavy barriers set by the Chaos Gods and glimpse the true secrets."
Magnus said nothing.
Silence settled over the bridge.