"Are you a psyker?"
The Pale King turned his gaze from the golden floor, and Mortarion narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at his [brother], Magnus.
He was tall, taller than Mortarion, taller than Vulkan he had ever seen.
He is tall and strong.
His fluffy copper-red hair looked like the sideburns of a real beast, his skin was abnormally red, and he was wearing an ivory and sandalwood green silk robe, with a golden feather cloak hanging behind him. There were some incense burners and parchment fixed with wax seals dotted on it.
His huge ebony horns bent toward the sky, and a large book fastened with a golden chain hung at his side.
What most disturbed and confused Mortarion, however, was the smooth patch of skin on Magnus's face where his right eye should have been.
Was their creator, the Emperor, a king who liked to create imperfect things
No, it's impossible.
If Mortarion could still understand the birdman's flashy wings with a sneering attitude, he could not understand Magnus's mutilated left eye.
Of course there is another possibility.
Even though he condemned sorcery, Mortarion was privy to blasphemous knowledge as a child at the hands of his adoptive father.
If the Emperor did not specifically design a half-blind man, then there is only one possibility: neither war nor pain can create such a smooth loss, and it is destined to leave scars.
Magnus used sorcery, he exchanged a part of himself for something.
He is a wizard.
He is a wizard.
Mortarion casually dropped his hand, close to the alien pistol Pseudo Lantern at his waist. The Primarchs were not welcome to bring large weapons to this banquet. Except for the Primarch's guards, the Primarchs only brought small weapons.
He wanted to turn around to check Hades' condition, but it would be too obvious, so Mortarion gave up.
He should trust his Archon. When it comes to matters of psychic power, Hades is far more cautious than he appears.
He maintained his posture, waiting for Magnus's answer.
Perhaps he should not be so cautious, Mortarion thought, realizing that, so far, the gathering had not been a disaster, and that the Angel and Guilliman had shown him another possibility.
Maybe he should be optimistic.
"Yes, I am a psyker."
Magnus laughed with unparalleled pride and pride,
"I am very lucky that our Father has given me this gift, that I can have it, use it, study it, and I can see the light, the beautiful light that those miracles emit."
The Emperor had created a sorcerer son, Mortarion thought irritably. Why was he so intent on subjecting his son to this misfortune when he already had Malcador
Fortunately, he didn't have a sudden idea to give Mortarion a pair of chicken wings or such a damning talent.
But now it seems that his brother is proud of this disability.
Mortarion thought, this poor, ignorant fool, doesn't he know that psionic power will ultimately bring only destruction
Did no one warn him? Did the Emperor just watch his son slide into the abyss
In response to Magnus' words, Mortarion gave an inarticulate response and waited cautiously.
"Psychic energy can sometimes emit beautiful light, but in nature, the more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it is. Magnus, we shouldn't be so optimistic when facing psychic energy."
The angel took a sip of the wine in the glass and spoke slowly.
Among the Primarchs present, only the Angel noticed the nerves that Mortarion had just tensed up—Mortarion did not like psykers.
"Angel, when you admire the sunset of Baal and those magnificent natural miracles, are they dangerous? These are miracles that nature has bestowed upon mankind, and the miracles of the etheric space are far more intoxicating than the sky of Baal. They are miracles, and they are treasures bestowed upon the wise by the etheric space."
"You shouldn't use the word miracle to describe the Warp. There are no gods in the world."
Dorn interrupted in time, frowning. The Primarch of the Imperial Fists had never liked psionics, a power full of variables and threats.
"That's just a metaphor, Dorn. Not everyone is like you, giving a precise definition to each word. When it comes to describing psionics, knowledge is emotional, not just a cold definition."
"Actually,"
The angel said slowly,
"Baal's sunset is deadly. It is the poisonous radiation field of Baal that creates the scenery in Baal's sky that is far richer and more layered than that of other planets."
Magnus made an irritated sound.
"Perhaps I should change the example to the sunsets on other, harmless planets besides Baal, such as the sunset on Macragge."
Guilliman blinked in surprise, and he opened his arms to the angel to show that he had no ill intentions and was just an innocent victim.
"The sunset on Macragge is beautiful, I admit that, but I prefer the dawn on Macragge."
Dorn spoke up, he had been to Macragge, in fact, Guilliman and he, both of them preferred the side of order, so they had a lot of common topics, and working with Guilliman was always simple and easy.
Similarly, Macragge under Guilliman's rule is as full of vitality and hope as Guilliman himself, and everything is in order.
"That's just an inappropriate metaphor! We don't need to dwell too much on whether the sunset on someone's home planet is beautiful—"
Magnus realized that this was getting further and further away from the topic of psychic power he had hoped for. Unlike the Khan or Perturabo, his other brothers always seemed to ignore his topics. They had a dull malice towards psykers, which was specifically directed at Magnus himself.
"Barbarus is filthy."
"Because of psychic powers."
Mortarion, who had been silent until then, suddenly spoke, interrupting Magnus and surprising the Primarchs present.
Magnus opened his one eye wide and looked at Mortarion.
"She is tainted by psychic energy, and she is dying. The psychic overlords are unleashing their sorcery upon her. Humans are the currency that the overlords use to please the filthy warp."
"In Barbarus, the most common and lowest-level sorcery is the resurrection spell. The overlords select strong humans, cut off their strongest parts, sew them together with hemp rope, and then communicate with the warp to give these corpses new life and make them puppets."
The smiles on Guilliman and the Angel's faces froze, but Mortarion continued speaking calmly.
"Witchcraft is evil, and psionics is ugly."
"All the lords on Barbarus, except those who died in the war, will sacrifice themselves to the warp in madness and go to blasphemous destruction."
"Stay away from it before you are consumed by psionic energy and witchcraft."
Mortarion looked calmly at Magnus's single eye. Some broken dark golden fragments shone in Magnus's eyes, while his pupils were light golden.
He repeated,
"Stay away from him, Magnus, before you are consumed by psionics and sorcery."
"I do not know—" Why the Emperor would inflict such suffering on his son, he may be a tyrant, but you do not have to listen to him.
But before Mortarion could finish his words, Magnus suddenly stood up and looked at Mortarion angrily.
His red hair flew in the air, and he seemed to have grown larger, with two huge ebony horns pointed angrily at Mortarion.
"What did you say?"
"As someone who only saw the ignorant tyrant using psychic power to rule you, you chose to one-sidedly deny everything?"
Magnus walked up to Mortarion and looked down at him.
A strand of Magnus's red hair fell into the bean soup in front of Mortarion, and the bean toad uttered a scream and sank back into the swamp.
Mortarion took a deep, deep breath, and his breathing mask emitted a deathly groan.
Magnus is taller and stronger than him, and he can use psionic powers.
Mortarion was not sure he could defeat him, but perhaps there were some other brothers who hated psionics and they could attack together.
Mortarion stood up from his seat in silence. He was also tall, although not as tall as Magnus, but the oppressive feeling of the Lord of Death should not be underestimated.
Fortunately, he was at the very edge of the long table, and with just one big step, there would be no obstruction between the two of them.
Someone was screaming, but it didn't matter anymore. The surrounding noise became blurred and small. The private communication channel crackled and Mortarion stared at Magnus.
Dorn seemed to be yelling at them to stop, and for the first time Guilliman's calm voice became panicked.
Mortarion did not hear the birdman's voice, but it did not matter, he did not care.
The angel shook his wine glass and looked over there. Now, the seat was empty.
"Apologize to me. Apologize for insulting psychic powers and psychics."
A dull roar emanated from Magnus' throat.
"I shouldn't have expected anything from you, another primitive being at the end of evolution."
"No."
Mortarion said softly.
"I stick to my point of view. Psykers are all deserving of the gallows. Even now, we and the Empire still need them."
In response, he heard a wave of psionic arcs at the end of Magnus' arm.
Mortarion spread his hands.
Yes, code
(End of this chapter)