I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 338 Russ steps on Magnus' back
Translucent scarabs crawled inside the Lord of Flame, and the horned beasts and mortal servants hid in the darkness and trembled, as if these tiny bugs were the true masters of the ship.
Ahriman's expression was gloomy and uncertain. He sensed a familiar aura and gaze from those scarabs.
It's him
The emotions in Ahriman's eyes were so complex, containing sadness, pain, disgust and guilt at the same time.

He gritted his teeth and strode towards the command room of the Lord of Flame.
Outside the command room, the wizards of the Prodigal Sons' gang were trembling and kneeling outside the command room. There were still faint traces of fighting on the ground. Crystallized ashes were floating in the air, and the wails of dead souls could be faintly heard in the ashes.

Ahriman took a quick look and confirmed that those kneeling on the ground were all old members of the former Thousand Sons Legion.

The Prodigal Sons under Ahriman's command are not all from the Thousand Sons Legion. Many of them come from other warbands, traitorous chapters or think tanks of renegade chapters.

Many of them are young and restless. Many of them have tried to gain knowledge and power from Ahriman and challenge his position.
Apparently, the dumbest of these ambitious people tried to challenge the authority of the being that invaded the Lord of Flame, and eventually fell victim to its witchcraft.

They don't understand who it is. It's not that they don't know its name, but they are far from understanding its existence.
But Ahriman knew, and so did the elders of the Thousand Sons, how terrifying the Scarlet King was.

As early as 10,000 years ago, in the realm of the Supreme Heaven, even among his 21 brothers, only a few could rival him.

Ten thousand years later, the former master of Prospero is probably more powerful than ever before, and has accumulated more knowledge in his mind.

Most of the wizards in the Prodigal Sons' gang were as weak as children in front of him, and the knowledge in their heads was no different from that of fools.

"My lord." The trembling Thousand Sons wizards saw Ahriman.

Ahriman did not condemn their cowardice, but simply nodded to them, walked between them, and headed for the door of the command room.
The exile took a deep breath, as if fully prepared, before slowly pushing open the Duat Door.

A vast and powerful spiritual force surged into Ahriman's body, like a violent storm from another dimension, like the roar of a primitive god mixed with thunder, like the fierce wind that dried up the world exhaled by the god of wind and air in ancient Egyptian mythology.
Ahriman seemed to be moving forward in a sticky slurry. He barely took a step forward and entered the command room.
The command room of the Lord of Flame was distorted beyond recognition. All concepts of space, up and down, left and right, front and back, were distorted and erased. Everything was twisting and turning like a kaleidoscope, with countless crystals, lightning and mirrors raging in it.
Those mortal servants and Tzaanhorns who failed to leave the command room in time were trapped in the mirrors that constantly reflected the brilliant light, like afterimages in the mirror.

For a moment, Ahriman even felt that he was not standing in the command room of a ship on the Webway, but had entered the Tzeentch Crystal Labyrinth in the deepest part of the High Heaven.
All matter in the entire space seemed to be distorted by a powerful will, turning into a pocket dimension of pure spirit.

Ahriman said nothing, but walked towards the void filled with the torrent of the High Heaven.

Matter was formed under his feet, the world was solid around him, reality was established with him as the center,
His will paved the way in this mad storm, and those illusory scenes gradually faded around him like the tide.
Ahriman saw the tall scarlet figure he had not seen in so many years,
Broken, still broken,
During the long years of exploring the Warp, Ahriman had become accustomed to using his will to seek the truth rather than using his senses to obtain representations.

Especially Ahriman knew clearly that the Scarlet King in front of him was just like his father, and their appearance was just a byproduct of psychic power, not their true body.
He almost immediately saw that the being standing before him was just as broken and incomplete as it had been ten thousand years ago.

And he was even more indifferent than he was ten thousand years ago. It was as if the Scarlet King's humanity had leaked out through the cracks in his soul, turning him into a kind of cold and heartless existence. He was indifferent to everything in the world, and only had a thirst for knowledge and submission to the great game of the gods.
Ahriman felt that his soul was about to be torn apart. This once wise king loved his offspring so much and had so much humanity.
Ahriman saw the ever-changing, twisting, twitching blue shadow lying on the Scarlet King's broken soul.

The blue shadow uttered a sharp, mocking cry at Ahriman, hovering playfully around the Scarlet King, as if making fun of Ahriman's rage.

"Lord of Change!" An angry growl came from Ahriman's throat.

Each of the four gods has his own chosen one.
Khorne is Karn, the former second-in-command of the World Eaters, Nurgle is Typhons, the captain of the Death Guard, and Slaanesh is Lucius, a wild dog of little fame during the Great Crusade.

The Chosen One of Tzeentch is Ahriman himself.
But Ahriman was not as loyal to his master as the other three chosen ones.
Ahriman despised, loathed, and even hated Tzeentch.

"Ahriman, the one I banished." A calm and indifferent voice sounded.

Everything before Ahriman gradually took shape,
The wings of violet and dark blue interwoven with each other trembled slightly, rolling up strange runes that even Ahriman could not fully understand, and wrapped around the sturdy body that looked like a scarlet giant god in mythology.

Under the devilishly ferocious horns, a single eye that shone with the evil light of the highest heaven was watching the things in front of him.
In the crimson tide, ninety-nine crystallized skeletons of Astartes psykers were suspended, pieced together into a strange divination device.

Ahriman saw members of his own Prodigal Sons warband among those skeletons, even former members of the Thousand Sons Legion.

"I need your venue and the materials you have accumulated." The Scarlet King said in a cold tone.

"Where did you go, the you who once fought against Leman Russ for your offspring, the you who once faced the new legion promised by the Lord of Mankind but ultimately chose us, the you who gave up an eye for your offspring?"

Ahriman's body trembled as he asked in a cold and gloomy tone:
"Magnus. Magnus!!!"

Magnus, Primarch of the Thousand Sons Legion, gave Ahriman only an icy glance in response.

"I summon you, Ahriman, and I grant you absolution, inviting you to join me in the assault on Fenris and revenge upon the Wolf."

Magnus's voice was as low as the whisper of a wise man, and every word he uttered turned into a translucent scarab dancing:

"Yet you ignored my invitation and played cat and mouse with the Eldar rats in the Webway."

"I have found a chance to redeem myself from my mistakes," Ahriman replied, tightening his grip on the scepter. "I have come to give you that chance."

Magnus laughed coldly and said:

"Everything about you is in the plan of the Lord of Change"

The immense psychic energy surrounding the Scarlet King poured like a tide into the divination device made from the corpses of ninety-nine Astartes psykers.

At the same time, Ahriman also felt a tightness in his chest, and his psychic energy flowed uncontrollably towards the divination device.

"Your persistence, hunting, searching, and desire will all serve as my compass in finding the newborn being in the warp."

"The Warp is like this. As long as the will and persistence are strong enough, even the figures of the gods can be seen."

Under the urging of the Scarlet King and Ahriman's powerful psychic power, and under the influence of Ahriman's ten thousand years of obsession, the torrent of the High Heaven began to hover over the ninety-nine crystal corpses.

A strange and ever-changing glare appeared, reflecting a series of figures, which seemed to be the reflections of the past and the present.
Ahriman saw a group of Space Wolves sitting around a fire in the snow on Mount Macragge, roasting wild boar from the forest until the shell was black and blood was seeping from the inside.

Next to the group of wild wolves, there was a vague figure sitting.

Sometimes it looks like a mortal, and sometimes like a blue civet cat. It keeps changing and it is difficult to see clearly.

Ahriman only saw the figure pick up a pot of Fenris mead, seemed to sprinkle something into it, and then drank it all.

Suddenly, cheers came from the wolves, as if they were admiring the figure's heavy drinking.

"In addition to your obsession with that being, your hatred for the wild wolf also affects the divination."

Magnus said calmly:
“This is a scene from the past, not what I wanted, but it also has reference value.”

As he spoke, Magnus's eyes continued to focus on the image in front of him.
Ahriman, whose spiritual power was forcibly extracted, covered his chest and looked at the scene in front of him in a dull manner.

"Dora bro! Your jokes are worth telling in the halls of Ruth!"

"In return, let me tell you the myths of our Fenris!"

The wolves laughed loudly, and seemed to be mingling with the vague figure:
"Ten thousand years ago, in the dawn of the world when it was still young, the shameless dark god Horus ravaged the entire world."

"Horus mated with the hungry dragon goddess Slaanesh and gave birth to Gork and Maok."

"The two brothers teamed up to attack and knocked down Angron, raped him and gave birth to countless green orcs."

The wolves laughed again.

The blurry figure in the image, Magnus, and Ahriman were all in deathly silence.

"Wild! So wild!" The shadowy figure couldn't help but applaud and praised: "I will propose to Sanguinius and Guilliman to use the Fenris version of the Great Heresy myth to replace the nine demons and nine primarchs of the Ecclesiarchy."

"But I have a question. What does your local mythology of Fenris say about Magnus?"

"Oh, Magnus!"

The wolves were drunk and laughed as they said:

"Every child of Fenris has heard the bards tell the story of Magnus."

"His spine is not very good, and Ruth is always stepping on his back."

(End of this chapter)