Great hosts of Sisters of Silence, Adeptus Custodes, and Imperial Fists Space Marines once again charged into the Webway, engaging the daemon legions in endless slaughter.
Magnus and the Emperor exchanged a nod before marshalling their immense psychic energies.
They began to erect a psionic ward within the Webway to aid the Custodes and Sisters of Silence in their fight. The combined psychic might of these two beings could hold back the daemonic tide for a time, giving their warriors precious aid.
Magnus poured all his power into the effort, weaving his psychic energies with the Emperor's.
The two colossal forces converged in the Webway to form a pale golden barrier, a ward that could effectively block the assault of at least half the daemonic host.
But just as the ward was about to solidify, the Emperor's power suddenly faltered. His golden psionic energy receded, and a black, malevolent power erupted in its place.
It not only shattered the fledgling ward but also violently repelled Magnus's own psychic force, causing the very rift in the Webway to tear open even wider.
"Father! I feel something is wrong with you! What happened?" Magnus asked, turning his head to look at the Emperor beside him.
He was shocked to find that his father no longer possessed his usual shimmering, glorious form.
His body was now split down the middle. One half remained golden, but the other was a terrifying, pitch-black. Even the Emperor's face was twisted. Half was the familiar countenance of his father, but the other half was a mask of savage, evil glee.
"Silence, Experiment Number 15," a thousand voices seemed to hiss from the dark half of the Emperor's mouth.
"You, a clown playing with witchcraft.
"The most unstable of all my creations."
Each word was a deprecation, a deliberate humiliation aimed at Magnus. The primarch stared in utter shock. His father had become strange, profoundly strange.
"Magnus, do not listen. That is… my… my dark side," the other side of the Emperor's face managed to say.
"I know, Father. What is happening to you? Have the Chaos Gods attacked you? How can I help?" Magnus asked with desperation in his voice.
"It is no use, Magnus," the Emperor said with a sigh, "He is ruining our plans, but I am powerless to stop him."
The power of the Dark King was beyond anything he could have imagined. To be blunt, all his achievements, all his strength today, had been due to this entity. He owed his very existence to the Dark King, for he was the birthing matrix it had created.
"Get out of my father you freak," Magnus roared at the Emperor's other half.
"I am the Dark King? No, no, no, Experiment Number 15, you are mistaken. I am your father. If I were the Dark King, you would have died long ago," the Emperor's dark half sneered.
At his words, Magnus's body trembled violently, and a wave of dizziness washed over him.
"Stop it, you bastard!" the Emperor bellowed, trying to shield Magnus with his own golden psychic power, but the darkness was stronger than he had anticipated.
"It's useless, my other self," the dark half gloated, "I am your dark side, the accumulation of all your dark emotions over millennia. I am the very embodiment of humanity's sins. You could suppress me before, but now the entire galaxy is plunged into darkness. The despair of humanity is the nutrient for my growth. I am the Dark Emperor."
"Be silent! You are not a part of me."
"Hahaha! Why deny yourself? You are nothing more than a Chaos God. You are terrified of becoming one, terrified of walking that inevitable path. But I am not afraid, for I am your fear."
The Emperor seemed to be suffering from a split personality, his face a canvas for two warring voices speaking entirely different words.
The sight struck fear into Magnus's heart. He wanted to help his father but was powerless. The gap in their strength was simply too vast.
But he had managed to understand one thing: this entity was another personality of his father's. Did his father truly have a dual personality?
"Had you not sat upon the Golden Throne, I would not have appeared so quickly," the Dark Emperor said, "I will continue to splinter your consciousness and turn you into a monster from head to toe. You will become the very thing you despise most."
"You should not be appearing now!"
His dark persona should have only been born after ten thousand years upon the Golden Throne, a creature gestated from constant torment and humanity's despair. This was far too soon.
"Is my existence so strange? Anything is possible in the Warp. It is a realm where dreams and reality intertwine, where time itself converges. The past and future are one. Why delude yourself?"
"My Lord! What is wrong?" At that moment, the Imperial Regent Malcador rushed into the throne room, his face etched with anxiety.
The Emperor had no time to answer.
He had to focus all his might on suppressing his dark persona. This other self, the Dark Emperor, was trying to destroy the Webway he and Magnus had so painstakingly repaired.
It was trying to expand the Warp rift beneath the Golden Throne and bring his grand project to ruin.
"Come, welcome this grand moment with me. Together, we shall become true gods. You and I, we will become an existence far greater than those four pathetic entities," the Dark Emperor coaxed.
"Be silent!" the Emperor gasped, heaving for breath.
The Dark Emperor was already gripping the armrest of the Golden Throne, trying to pull his half of their shared body into a sitting position.
"Hahahaha! It's futile. You cannot suppress me. Not while you must also face the Four," the Dark Emperor gloated triumphantly.
"Lord Malcador, think of something! We cannot let this continue. Father will… he will become a monster," Magnus said, his voice frantic.
"Wait here, Magnus. I must make preparations," Malcador said, turning and leaving the throne room without another look.
The time had come to initiate the plan he had long since prepared.
Magnus, left alone, did his best to aid the Emperor with his psychic powers while simultaneously trying to stabilize the Webway.
The whole of Holy Terra began to tremble violently.
"Hurry, Lord Malcador! If you don't get back soon, I won't be able to hold him! His power is growing stronger! Father, hold on!" Magnus roared.
The other half of the Emperor's face was still set in a determined grimace, but his golden psionic energy was being overwhelmed by the darkness.
If only he had known.
Perhaps he should have accepted Lorgar's proposal. The prayers and faith of humanity could have indeed helped him turn the tide.
But now, he could not allow his dark self to succeed, no matter the cost.
Just as the two sides reached a stalemate and the Webway itself was on the verge of collapse again, Malcador returned, leading ten thousand psykers into the Sanctum Imperialis.
"Loyal citizens of the Imperium! The time has come for you to give your lives for the Emperor, for the Master of Mankind! Come, burn your psychic power with all your might!" Malcador shouted, standing before the sea of ten thousand psykers.
This vast gathering of psykers was the psychic sustenance he had prepared in advance.
He had begun making these preparations the moment he knew the Emperor would need to sit upon the Golden Throne and expend his psionic reserves. After ascending the Throne, the Emperor was like a roaring bonfire, a fire that required kindling to keep burning.
That kindling was the souls of psykers. Malcador had gathered them for this purpose, a sacrificial offering to their great Emperor.
Under Malcador's direction, ten thousand psykers spread their arms wide.
They began to burn their psychic energy, their life force, their very souls, channeling the resulting torrent of power into both Magnus and the Emperor.
Magnus felt a colossal wave of energy wash over him, a power born from psykers burning their lives, their souls, everything they were.
"Lord Malcador, what… what are you doing?" Magnus asked, utterly horrified.
These psykers, who were like his own kin, were being consumed like firewood. He could not even be certain if any among them were unwilling.
"It is a necessary sacrifice, Magnus. Now, you and the Emperor must absorb this psionic energy, the power of these souls. You must suppress this darkness," Malcador commanded.
As the ten thousand psykers burned through their soul, at least one thousand was extinguished. Their combined power forward toward the Golden throne.
A great deal was absorbed by the Emperor while a portion flowed toward Magnus. They absorbed and output the Psychic power like a blazing inferno.
The change in the Emperor was far more dramatic. A blinding golden light erupted from him, violently suppressing the encroaching darkness.
"Never! Never appear before me again," the Emperor's voice thundered, once again restored to its former divine resonance.
But Magnus felt only an icy chill.
On the floor before him, of the ten thousand, at least a thousand psykers was lying on the ground fallen. Their eyes had been scorched from their sockets, their souls burned to nothingness.
The other surviving ones were still burning through their very essence.
"How long can you suppress me? I will return one day," the Dark Emperor's voice echoed though the chamber and then vanished.
"Thank you, Malcador," the Emperor said, "If not for the psykers you prepared, I fear a great catastrophe would have occurred."
"It is my duty, great Master of Mankind," Malcador replied.
"Father, will that creature emerge again? After we have expended this new power?" Magnus asked.
The Emperor sighed and gave a weary nod.
"Do not worry, Magnus," Malcador said, "I have prepared a great many psykers for you and the Emperor. At this rate, we have enough to last for at least three years."
Magnus felt his hands and feet go numb with cold.
…
As the Sword-class Frigate's superluminal drive carved a cerulean trail through the Webway, Axis stood before the bridge's main viewport, admiring the passing scenery with wonder.
Unlike ordinary imperial vessels, a ship with a superluminal drive seemed to move much faster within the Webway.
Movement was smoother, more fluid. He wondered if the Old Ones had also used some form of superluminal propulsion when they navigated these passages.
Although the Webway itself was a faster-than-light network, a craft still had to move within it. Greater speed would naturally lead to quicker journeys.
For a long time before the War in Heaven, a majority of the Old Ones had even migrated to live permanently within the Webway. The ancient Aeldari cities that dotted its expanse had in fact benefited from their presence. The stellar bodies that illuminated entire planets within had all been dragged inside by the Old Ones.
"This speed is incredible, Lord Axis," said Cassandra, standing beside him. "At this rate, we should reach Isstvan V in about ten days."
Though her Harlequin Troupe were masters of the Webway and possessed its most complete map, even they were incapable of superluminal travel within its corridors.
This was a monumental advancement.
"Perhaps once the superluminal drive is perfected, we can export some of them to you," Axis offered.
He was considering many things.
At present, it seemed inevitable that the Emperor would be permanently interred upon the Golden Throne.
The Dark King was pressing him relentlessly, and without the Throne's power, the Emperor would have no way to suppress it. But the situation was different from how it should have been. The Dark King wanted the Emperor to ascend the throne on the brink of death, alone.
It did not want Magnus there with him, both of them working together to maintain the Webway.
This was why the Emperor's power always seemed to fail at the most critical moments.
Otherwise, with the Emperor's immense psionic might combined with Magnus's, they could have guided humanity's fleets even with the four Chaos Gods stirring up the full fury of a Warp storm.
They would not have been reduced to this state, unable to even send a single message out. The Dark King even intervened whenever Magnus considered acting on his own.
Axis knew he had to make preparations. The great cluster of conflict that was the 41st millennium was an absolute nightmare.
If humanity were to find a suitable ally in the galaxy, the Aeldari were undoubtedly the most appropriate choice.
Every other race was either full of malice toward mankind or completely impossible to communicate with. There were the Necrons, for instance, and the Orks. As for the T'au, their empire was simply too weak to be worthy allies of humanity.
"That would be a great honor, Lord Axis. If you could truly export superluminal drives to us, it would benefit both our species," Cassandra said.
"In truth, humanity's perception of the Craftworld Aeldari, the Exodites, and your Harlequins is quite favorable," Axis note, "It is the Drukhari pirates and their raiding parties that we consider a plague."
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ps? it's 200 ps per bonus chapter!