Chapter Fourteen: Tales from the Palace and Beyond (Part II The Humbling of the Mage)

Five Months after the Emperor left for Mars.

Arik Taranis leaned his massive bulk against the banister and was pleasantly surprised it didn't groan in protest. The Primarchs accommodations, where he now stood were one of the few places he did not need to watch his every move to ensure he did not leave it a ruin. The Emperor had not gifted him and his fellow prototypes with the same level of micro-motor skills that the next generations of enhanced warriors possessed. They had been built as destroyers, Gods of Destruction crafted to burn away the ruins of humanities fallen empire so a new one could rise. Things such as fine motor skills, stable Hypno-indoctrination, and their lifespans had been sacrificed for raw power.

Arik felt little ill will towards his creator for it, he had seen exactly how far humanity had fallen during the Old Night and had helped haul it back from the edge of extinction kicking and screaming. Taranis knew how close humanity had come to the end and if the Emperor waited just a little longer there might not have been a species to save. Being created flawed seemed a small price to pay.

Even so, they were far beyond a normal human but lacking compared to the Primarchs he watched train below him. Arik himself being closer to the Primarchs was still far far above the Astartes Baseline but it did not come naturally to him. He had to watch his every movement in more fragile environments. These thoughts drifted through the old champion's mind as he viewed the combat drills performed below. He stood on an observation deck overlooking a section of the Imperial Palaces training grounds.

He had passed through the Legion Yards and seen the adolescent Astartes being drilled in countless martial and tactical skills by Ghota and a handpicked group of Unification Wars Vets. His last surviving son had taken to his role of Drill instructor well and had often referred to the legions as the "piss-brained limp wristed mutts with potential"

That was the closest he could easily come to praise for the Astartes. To both Arik and Ghota, they had at first seemed lacking. Not strong enough, not fast enough, not vicious enough, nothing compared to the Thunder Warriors glory. That was until they saw the Legio Astartes fight as they were meant to. Not as warriors or even soldiers but as Armies.

The Thunder Warriors were known by that epitaph instead of their title due to them being true Warriors, the Legion organization of them was more for easier management than an actual command structure. They fought side by side but individually. Not so much an army but a group of monsters rampaging together.

Malcador had once after observing a series of duels between Custodes and Thunder Warriors made a comparison that would be often used. "The Thunder Warriors are like great Ursine-beasts. Existing only in bored hibernative stupors during peace and vicious forces of destruction during war. By comparison, the Custodes are Alpha-Felines. Regal, Terrible, Apex Predators, meant to be perfect in every conceivable way"

Arik grudgingly agreed with the assessment and viewed the Astartes as being the third part of this Transhuman trinity. If the Thunder Warriors were Bears, the Custodes Lions then the Astartes were Wolves. Easily broken by a lazy strike from their predecessors but worked as a pack capable of wearing down and ripping the first two apart.

As the years of training had gone on Ghota had expressed concern to Arik that these wolves were just that, not hounds and negligible to bite the hand that feeds. Conversations with the Boss and Malcador had made it evident to the Lighting Bearer that was indeed a great concern and they were betting on the wolves doing what wolves do: follow the Alpha.

The Alphas in question were dueling within reinforced Practice Cages below Arik. Part of the Primarchs training involved daily duels against each other to foster both martial skill and camaraderie between them. Each day they were randomly divided up into dueling pairs, (Alpharius and Omegon flipped a coin or some days fought together.) and fought under certain conditions chosen to keep them adaptable and skilled in things other than their specialty.

Sometimes they fought with just hands and feet, other times engaging in running gun battles. Today they fought with a weapon of their choosing and nothing else. No warp born power, no physical gifts, no hidden weapons or alchemical concoctions. Just steel and grit.

This suited some fine, it annoyed a few but only one Primarch was openly contemptuous of this particular challenge: Magnus. Taranis watched the crimson haired Primarch duel his older brother Eddard. Arguably the greatest martially of the Primarch, Eddard combined elements of the skill of Iskandar, the physicality of Vulkan, Tyric's ferocity and the twins X-factor into what even Arik had to admit would probably be the greatest warrior humanity had ever seen. He was losing badly.

To a casual observer, it would seem Eddard was simply losing to a superior warrior. His guard was just an instant too slow or his blade lacked the power to properly damage his sibling. Arik knew the truth, centuries of battling things not meant to be had given him a good nose for detecting the Warps touch. He had to admit Magnus's skill at it was flawless. Somehow without any detection, he was dilating time to the smallest degree for both him and his brother. Making himself an instant faster and Eddard an instant slower.

A faint distortion of the air around the pair was the only indication and was not visible to unaugmented eyes. This along with what Arik was fairly certain was impressively subtle biomancy if the slight ozone-twinge to Magnus's scent was any indication gave him a considerable edge over his brother. The battle had been going on for a minute or so and it amused Arik to notice the shift that overcame Eddard when he realized his brother was not going to stop and this was not some secret test but Magnus cheating.

Eddard did not burn with a vicious fury like Tyric, Culain or Kalib. When he got angry he became focused but much more vicious than his more fiery siblings. His Matrari had once compared it to a laser that seared through whatever had gained his ire. Now that white-hot intensity scorched at Magnus.

The Young Lion as he was so often called started to push his body and mind to its absolute limit. No longer caring about martial precision or even his guard Eddard switched to a combat style taught to him by a Fallen Sword-Saint of Gredbritton. It was a supremely offensive style that sacrificed all defensive stances and measures for a devastatingly effective battle-trance that defended by simply making it so the opponent could not attack.

Even with the Mages multiple advantages, he was starting to be pushed back. Magnus was forced to stop lashing out with the bladed edges of his Zhen-Staff and focus on simply keeping Eddards longsword away from him. That was his mistake, his weapon was designed to keep his foe away from him while he cast spells. Being forced to block meant his foe was far closer than he should be.

Eddard did not stop, he continued to wail into his brother with focused passion. Magnus could only slow the pace he was being forced back by the flurry of blows. Arik sensed the time dilation increase but it was too little too late. Magnus was backed into one of the corners of the cage and his confident exterior started to crack. Eddards blade seemed to be in multiple places at once and soon the mage's armor was checkered with the electric burn marks indicating Eddard's sword had made contact.

Letting loose an angry scream Magnus gambled on a lunge that on the battlefield would take virtually anything head off. Eddard was not anywhere near where the spade-shaped end of the double-edged staff was stabbed. It took Magnus a second to realize his brother had jumped a few feet straight into the air and was now descending like the predatory Jungle-Cats he was often compared too.

Even Arik had to admit it was a masterful bit of misdirection leading to a great killing blow. Eddard landed on the Zhen-Staffs shaft and pinned it to the floor while bringing his longsword down onto the joint where Magnus's Cuirass and Gorget met. The combination of Transhuman muscle and gravity should have let the dull buzz-blade rip through the protective armor and severely bruise if not fracture Magnus's collarbone. It should have been a definite kill strike. Emphasis on should.

While the blade was just a few inches from his neck Magnus had blurted out an incantation, a small flash of light filled the practice cage and Eddard was left to stare at his blade in a mix of annoyance and surprise. The blade had been changed by Magnus's magic and became rubbery and elastic. The Longsword now lay drooped over his brother's shoulder like a length of rope. Seeing the jig was up Magnus blossomed with power and knocked his sibling back with a telekinetic wave. Eddard quickly sprang to his feet and was met by the Zheng-Staffs kopsheh blade to his throat.

With his own sword flopping uselessly in his hand the First Primarch's eyes narrowed in vicious fury as he spat out the words he despised about all "I surrender"

Grinning foolishly Magnus lowered his own weapon and was about to start speaking before a mailed fist pummeled into his face. The Fifteenth Primarch went sprawling and Eddard was on top of him. His composure had been compromised and he ripped into Magnus. The Arena-attendants that had been monitoring the fight were unsure what to do and did not want to get between the two. Arik could have easily dropped down and ended the fight but decided he could wait a minute or two.

Eddard roared into his brothers face "DID YOU SEE MY BLADE IGNITE IN WHITE FIRE? DID MY FLESH GLOW WITH PSYCHIC MIGHT? I SHUT OFF EVEN MY WARRIOR-INSTINCTS! YET YOU FLAUNTED YOUR POWERS AND ACTED HONORLESS!"

Another bone-crushing wave of energy smashed into Eddard, sending him tumbling back. The snarling First Son clambered to his feet. Arik could feel the Older Primarch mustering his own warp-gifts along with his considerable mental and physical fortitude in order to strike back. Soul-Fyre started to crackle in his hands and he let psychic energy pour into his muscles to enhance him. Right now Eddard stood as a paragon of what a Primarch could be. A bonding of humanities mastery over both physical and spiritual crystallized into a young hero. He never stood a chance.

Each of the Primarchs was connected to the Warp and could wield formidable psychic powers both consciously and unconsciously. Some could manipulate the minds of lesser beings, others enhance their body or mind past its already transhuman limits. Both the Emperor and Malcador had educated them in the use of these gifts and all of them could control an wield them. Yet one stood above the rest in sheer power. Magnus now used that power to utterly subjugate his brother.

Eddard had barely made a few steps towards Magnus before a psychic wave that would have stripped the flesh from a mortals bones smashed him into the far wall of the practice cage. He was held aloft in the dent his body had made in the Cages bars. Magnus floated to his feet and hovered towards his brother, all while increasing the pressure on him.

Psychic energy bled from the Mages eyes as he trembled with fury. Eddard's composure had cracked earlier, and his focused anger had become a primitive vicious fury. Now Magnus's composure was compromised and a mercurial coldness poured off of him as he spoke.

"You surrendered. I won and then you still attacked me. Where was that honor you aspire to brother? You lost and then you attacked me for being better than you. I'm ashamed for you Eddard."

Arik could only gap in mild shock. Was this brat really that arrogant? He had been a few years dealing with a few minor uprisings and he had returned to Magnus being a right little snotling. At first, he had intended to only watch but now he knew a bit of Uncle Arik's "guidance" was in order. Eddard, in turn, responded the best he could with nearly fifty g's on his chest "A-a-are you…. Serious? Mag-g-gnus you cheated with yuuurr powers and beesmurched the arena."

Magnus scoffed and responded "Father gifted you with steely muscles and reflexes capable of catching bolt-shells. Just as he gifted me with the powers of the warp. You are using your gifts just as I was using mine."

Before Eddard could respond a few hundred kilos of Thunder Warrior landed between the brothers. One massive meaty paw grabbed Magnus by his long red mane and slammed him into the floor and the other caught the limp Eddard. The Impact had knocked the Fifteenth son out and the First slurred something that sounded like "I had it under control" before fading into unconsciousness.

Sighing to himself Arik hoisted the two juvenile Demi-gods over his shoulders and left the practice chamber. Up close he found the strange proportions of the Primarchs more amusing. He had been spat out of a vat fully grown and the other enhanced warriors followed a slightly altered maturing process, but not Primarchs. The Little bastards were physically and mentally children but lacked the weird proportions of them. They looked like miniature Astartes and he could understand why The Emperor had psychically bonded the Assai-Matrari with the tykes. Transhuman-dread inspiring children was no laughing matter.

Cracking his neck Arik left the training grounds with the two primarchs. The other duels lulled at the sight of him. Kota broke a clinch with Moric and clambered onto the cage wall and called out "Uncle Arik! You're back! Uhh please don't kill them…"

The old warrior simply chuckled and waved to his gene-kin. He deposited Eddard into the Mediace ward and explained the situation. The squadron of tutors and mentors started devising new lesson plans to help increase Eddard's emotional composure and resistance to Warp-craft. Arik avoided Meghann Winzar, Eddards Matrari rushing into the chamber. Even if Magnus had hurt her son she would not condone what he was about to do.

Taranis left the Primarch Quarters and headed for his own within the Palace, still with the unconscious Primarch slung over his shoulder. Along the way, he sent various messages to invested parties. A request to Luna and Malcador. Sitreps to the Custodes about what happened and an apologetic message to Lybara Rasut, it would not sate the Witch but maybe keep her from trying to kill him for what he was going to do to her adopted son.

Ten hours later Magnus Rubricar awoke with a start. His superhuman senses and mind kicked in instantly, allowing him to bypass the confused haze a baseline human would be in his place. Magnus did not recognize where he was, it appeared to be a dimly lit large storage chamber somewhere in the palace. He recognized the architecture and he seemed to be in a clearing between storage containers.

The next thing Magnus noticed was that he was fully armored. His War-gear had been placed on him and to either side of him were his two favored none warp powered weapons. The Zheng-Staff was modified for real combat and next to it was a Plasma Pistol that Magnus had learned to use in combination with pyrokinesis. The Primarch rose to his feet and realized the building-sized containers had been arranged in an odd shape, that of an arena.

A deep vicious voice boomed out of the shadows "Pick up your Weapons and prepare for combat!"

Almost subconsciously Magnus started to before he asked "Uncle Arik? Is that you? What is going on here?"

On top of the farthest container, Arik Taranis emerged into the dim light. He was dressed in his full battle-plate and wore a grim smile. "Magnus Rubricar you failed the Challenge of flesh and steel when you used your warp-powers to beat Eddard Fendragoon. You must be taught a lesson."

Magnus simply scoffed at that "I did nothing wrong, my powers are my weapons and I used them to emerge victorious. Anyway, it was just a stupid training bout."

The smile faded from the Old Warriors lips and he continued "You show your ignorance and egotism whelp. The Powers of the Warp are not yours, they have never been and never will. That is the first lesson your Father taught you correct?"

"Yes but I use them to make it fair against my bro-" Magnus was interrupted by a glare that could have stopped a charging army.

"There is no such thing as fair in War boy. Those challenges are meant to keep you and your brothers from relying too heavily on one skill. I watched you fight Eddard and saw how arrogant and self-righteous you were. Magnus you have great potential, you know that but your knowledge of it seems to be spoiling it child." chided Arik.

The Ur-Primarch gestured to the weapons still at Magnus's feet. "You refused to learn these lessons the easy way, and are headed down a dark path you cannot be permitted on. I have taken upon myself to teach you the hard way. Now pick up your damn weapon and prepare for combat."

Snarling Magnus started to float up into the air while speaking "Arik you have no right to do this. When Malcador finds out you have kidnapped me! When my Father does! Oh you are in for-AGGGGHHHHH"

Just as he crested the top of the containers the ruins Arik and Ghota had spent a few hours painting with livestock blood flared to life. The Lighting Bearer was no sorcerer and barely psychic but he had picked many tricks during the Unification Wars. Magnus Plummeted to earth and angrily took up the weapons and started to snarl a curse, either literal or figurative.

Arik gestured around to countless marking covering seemingly every inch of the room in a pattern. "I would not do that if I were you. This entire chamber has been bound by hundreds of wards, rituals, and ruins over the years. Occansily when I am doing some dirty work for your Father I catch a live one and bring them back here to help keep me sharp. Xeno's, Witches, and worse have all fought and bled and here. Not one has escaped and trust me kiddo a lot of them were more powerful than you currently are."

Magnus's power waned and he glared sourly up at Arik "So how do you intend to "teach" me to cripple myself? Come down here and pummel me into the ground while your wards keep me weak? Because I will tell you right now that I will just work to become more powerful so something like that can never happen again"

Dropping his great bulk down, Arik sat on the edge of the container and smacked on its side. "Oh, I know that wouldn't work. I am not gonna kick your arse. She is gonna kill you"

A Blade pierced out of the container and carved a door open. Out Stepped a Power-armored woman. Her hair was done up in a topknot and in her hands, she carried a Power-Claymore as large as she was. The wards had obscured her presence and the minute she locked eyes with Magnus his stomach dropped. Two things stood out to the Primarch. First was the sheer spiteful disdain in her ice blue eyes, they bored into him and he felt the utter hate she felt for him.

The second and much more visceral was realizing what she was. The woman was a Pariah, a Null Soul and an extremely powerful one at that. Magnus had encountered Blanks and Pariahs multiple times throughout his training but none like this. Most were Shadows or voids in the warp. This woman was a Black Hole that gorged itself on the Warp. Reflexively he picked up the weapons and got into battle stance.

Arik chuckled "Good, you're learning. This here is Natarasha Krole. The only Super-Pariah on Terra. She is also the sole survivor of a lineage of Witch Hunters that were wiped out by Ursh. Natarasha does not like foolhardy warp-wielders and has been given permission by me to execute you for unsanctioned malefic psykana."

Magnus gaped at Arik: "You can't be serious? I am a son of the Emperor himself. You will be both executed for this treason!"

The Thunder Warrior responded with a chuckle: "Oh I am deadly serious. Either you win and get your act together or you lose and the Emperor returns to a palace in mourning for you after that tragic accident. So get it together Magnus, are you really not capable of beating a mortal woman?"

Snarling bitterly Magnus summoned a corona of psychic energy around him. His witch sight peered into the ether and he felt the mass of wards around him press into his power. They appeared to be keeping him within the arena and prevented his escape or destruction of it. He was trapped in this arena. The only way was through the Mortal before him.

Smirking Magnus summoned Witchfyre into his palms and prepared to blast the Pariah into a paste. Part of his own personal training was learning to overcome the powers of Black-Souled abominations. For a being of his power, it was relatively easy. To deal with the weaker ones he could simply overwhelm their anti-soul, similar to how a flame that is hot enough will boil away water before it can extinguish it. The more powerful ones like the wretch before him required a more… subdued touch.

The Mage focused his own psychic aura into a tight vortex around him, designed to protect it from the Pariahs draining effects. The Witchfyre was modulated to produce the maximum amount of true-fire, the spark and fuel may be psychic but the blaze would be real enough to hurt even this damnable soul-sucker.

He let the firebolts fly and watched them move at supersonic speed towards the Women. She was moving the moment he let them fly, spinning like some absurd dancer she let the bolts graze right past her. The psychic energy within them was almost instantly devoured by the proximity to the Pariah. Magnus cursed as the twin flames guttered out, robbed of fuel. He could tell she was not strictly baseline human, some low-level gene or chem augments were at work. No mortal could move like that.

Magnus was right but had only brushed the edge of the full extent of her abilities. Krole had been enhanced for the specific purpose of surviving this first engagement with an enemy psyker. After that, her nature did the rest of the work. Krole charged the Emperor's son with her Claymore raised. A Feral howl escaped her lips. This misguided experiment by the Master of Mankind would be put down before it was allowed to taint the infant Imperium.

Natarasha Krole was one of the most powerful Pariahs to ever exist and had been trained in her Clans arts, the techniques she was about to unleash would become the cornerstones of two organizations the Imperium and galaxy at large would grow to fear. These organizations would be born of both Kroles linage and skill set, they were the Sisters of Silence and Clade Culuxus.

The energy the Emperors princeling had discharged was absorbed into her Null-soul. It was consumed and converted into power for her to wield. Despite being barely augmented past a Peak-Human she charged Magnus at speeds an Astartes would be proud to match. She saw a mix of shock and fear in his eyes. It was a good sight.

She was slow compared to his brothers but far faster than she had any right to be. Magnus blocked the Claymores strike before leaping into the air. He was outside the blades range and started to chant incantations to empower himself for the duel. The blade could not reach but her gauntlet mounted Flamers could.

Fire erupted forth obscuring Magnus's Vision, his Telekine shield wailed in protest but held. It had done little other than startle him and stop his chanting. That was the goal. His transhuman senses heard the unmistakable growl of straining power armor just as Krole Lept into the air, she passed through the rapidly dying fireball as if it was not their. Her claymore came down on Magnus in a parody of what Eddard had tried. Except hers coursed with Pariah-Energy.

His shield did not buckle or cleave but was drained out of existence into the blade. Magnus had against his mentors and brothers advice forged his armor primarily to enhance his powers. Servo-motors were stripped to not interfere with incantations. Sturdier metals were passed over for ones with ritual significance. Auto-senses and shielding had been replaced with warp-imbued items. The Fifteenth Primarch began to realize the folly of this when the Pariah-Womens blade splintered his collarbone.

The Primarch screamed and felt his power bleed from him. The pain and Pariah-Aura forced him out of telekinetic flight. He crashed into the Arenas floor, the blade still in him. Krole rode his descent and used the shock of the impact to dislodge the sword. She was not stupid and backed out of his reach. Krole circled him like a hungry lioness.

Hundreds of spells and enchantments that had once empowered Magnus constantly faded and died. When she had wounded him the proximity had let her Aura drain and ruin years worth of effort. He staggered to his feet and grasped his wounded shoulder. It was healing, but not as fast as it should.

Arik answered his unspoken question "A primarch is a being of two realms, your powers draw from both. Guess what happens when you are disconnected from one of them?"

Magnus snarled and with a mental effort usually reserved for tossing tanks he pulled his staff into his hand from a few feet away. The instant he did she was on him again. She was faster and stronger than before, glutted on Magnus's spells she now matched any Champion of the Legions. Yet Magnus was a Primarch who's usual sparring partners were his brothers.

Slowly he started to match her rhythm. Steadily his defensive movements became more and more aggressive. Arik watched and started to smile, the brat might be learning after all. Sparks flew from their blades and arcs of energy cascaded off the power-fields. With a burst of superhuman muscle, Magnus pushed Krole back and took his opportunity.

Taranis swore as he realized what Magnus was doing. Instead of pressing his advantage he had fallen back and was mustering his gifts. The Primarch called out "I will not be limited! This duel is pointless and I will prove to you both the superiority of my craft!" Arik swore again when he realized the sheer amount of Energy Magnus was mustering. A Blank could be defeated by overloading their distorted connection to the Warp. The brat assumed it was the same with Pariahs, just scaled up. It was anything but.

A Beam of screaming-souls was let loose from the Primarchs hands, the Energy released could have turned a Small Titan into a haunted-puddle of molten metal. Natarasha Krole faced it head-on. She absorbed all she could and deflected and dispersed what she couldn't. She could feel her armor start to melt and morph around her as the impossible energy sought to devour her whole. Clenching her jaw hard enough to crack teeth she stood firm and focused. No witch no matter how powerful could stand against her. The Last of the Mute-Crow Clan was the product of generations of experimentation and eugenics. She would survive this and start her family anew.

Arik scrambled to activate a dozen wards, each not capable of stopping a Greater Neverborn but sure as hades inconvenience them as he had learned from experience. They seemed to barely affect the geyser of power erupting from the Primarch. It seemed barely weaker but steadily becoming more diffuse, like a stream of water being split by an object in its path. Arik realized the metaphor was more apt than he thought.

Krole was pushing into the beam and almost reached the Primarch. His eyes widened in shock as she finally reached the Primarch. He did not see the blow but knew it must have connected when the energy stopped. The utterly spent Primarch stumbled back, a large gash on his chest starting to ooze blood. His eyes suddenly unfocused and the Fifteenth son collapsed. Arik rushed over and found what was left of Krole. Every visible inch of skin was burnt, her blade was a smoking piece of slag and the hand that had pressed into the beam was a skeletal stump.

Cursing more thoroughly now Arik wondered how many pieces he would end up in if he had really just killed a Primarch and one of Malcadors proteges. He glanced over at the Primarch and we relieved to see the wound was shallow enough for his augmented blood to clot over.

Krole was a different story, she was still technically alive but looked like she had just fallen from orbit. Her charred mouth sputtered open and she inhaled a raspy breath. As she inhaled burned flesh started to slough off and muscles regrew. Arik had seen many things but the sight of this woman being knit back together was one of the stranger ones. It was not a perpetual rebirth or that of a tumor-beast, this was like the injuries were being undone.

After a minute or so a naked and twitching Krole lay before him. Her left arm still bore burn-scars of where she had blocked the beam, and Arik correctly suspected those would never heal. She then sat up and let out a scream that lasted far longer than it had any right to. It finally ended and she started to shakily get to her feet.

Shivering from exhaustion she spoke: "That...that was beyond the possible. I can regenerate injuries by feeding off warp-power but that… I was being destroyed as fast as I was rebuilt."

Krole stumbled and Arik caught her. The stunned women vomited onto the floor and then asked: "What now?"

Smiling grimly Arik helped her walk as they exited the Arena "I get some better wards and we keep trying to knock sense into the brat."

Krole snarled at that: "Would be better to let me kill him and be done with it."

"Doubtful, if my hypothesis is correct that tyke is far more important to the Emperor than we could ever imagine"

Arik patched the unconscious Primarch and shocked Pariah up and prepared to try again the next day. It ended less disastrously but still with Magnus getting cocky and relying on his powers. This processes repeated itself for nearly a month. Each day the Primarch would awake, eat, and then get pummeled by the Pariah. Each day though he seemed to rely less on his Psychic nature. Yet still, the lesson was not fully getting through.

Eventually, Arik started bringing in other Witch Hunters, these mortals had a much rougher go of it but most still managed to challenge Magnus. Arik found himself honestly disappointed many times. These were clever mortals with a few augments here and there. Literally beneath a Primarchs notice but Magnus was struggling.

It eventually came to a head three months into the experiment. When after the 75th time Krole had beaten him the Primarch let out a dejected howl and slumped to his knees. Finally, his hubris was broken. Putting his hands up in defeat the Primarch spat out the words "I give up. You have beaten it into me. My powers may be great but are fallible"

Arik grinned, the Mage had been humbled at last. It was the oldest trick in the Drill Instructor book, break a recruit down utterly and build him up better than he ever could be before. For a Primarch it had taken an absurd amount of effort, a cargo-hauler of supplies to bribe the Lunar Pariah Program, and a large number of powerful Psychic defenses to protect him from Magnus's Matrai. Yet it had been done. Now all that remained was rebuilding him into what he was meant to be.