Chapter 532: The Plan

With his mind restored—far clearer than it had ever been before the Daemon Ascension—Angron had become noticeably more human.

He now showed genuine concern for his sons, something he had scarcely demonstrated in his former state.

But the past remained carved into his memory.

Especially his grievances with the Emperor.

Lorgar smiled when he heard Angron’s declaration:

“Of course. His Majesty never said we couldn’t seek vengeance.”

Angron nodded slightly. Surrounded only by trusted inner-circle warriors, he did not bother with secrecy as he asked:

“So—what exactly is the plan?

And don’t drag things out. Now that I’m a Daemon Prince, I can already feel the material universe pushing back against me. Even without fighting, I can remain here for no more than twenty years before being forcibly expelled.”

Lorgar answered confidently:

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long. I’ve already made contact with several other Primarchs who intend to defect. Under Horus’s leadership, we’ll begin the operation soon.”

Angron’s expression tightened.

“Horus? The Warmaster? Why would he rebel?”

“That part I don’t fully understand. But he is the one chosen by the great powers to lead us.”

“…Fine.”

Though he said the word, Angron’s mind was already analyzing the situation.

There were too many hidden layers—too much he did not know.

And now that his mind was healed, the scholar that Angron once was began resurfacing.

He could finally think without agony.

No more instant madness the moment he exercised his intellect.

Lorgar did not notice Angron’s internal calculations. He continued, voice low and hard:

“But beyond those future concerns, we have something else to do now.”

“What is it?”

Lorgar’s tone sharpened with malice:

“Join forces with our brothers—and purge our Legions of those still loyal to the False Emperor.”

Every Legion, even the disgraced Word Bearers, still had loyalist elements.

Though those warriors felt abandoned or disappointed by the Emperor, they remained devoutly loyal.

This was something neither Lorgar, nor Horus, nor any conspirator could allow.

Before the rebellion could begin, they needed internal stability.

A brutal purge was unavoidable—regardless of casualties.

Angron considered for only a brief moment before nodding solemnly:

“…I understand. But I will need some time to identify them. I won’t kill those sons who remain loyal to me.”

Lorgar was quick to agree.

“Of course.”

Thus the two Primarchs reached a swift accord. Their planning began:

—How to identify loyalists within their Legions

—How to coordinate with other Primarchs

—How to prepare for the coming civil war

—

Meanwhile, on Prospero, the battle was entering its final stage.

Under the command of Leman Russ, the combined forces of the Space Wolves, the Silent Sisters, and the Custodes crushed the Thousand Sons, who had no Primarch leading them.

The disparity in strength was overwhelming.

Even with the help of local civilians, the Thousand Sons could not turn the tide.

The battle was entirely one-sided.

In mere days, the once-glorious Prospero had become a wasteland of ash and ruin.

The civilians were nearly exterminated.

Only a handful of Thousand Sons remained alive—clinging desperately to their final defense.

Inside the sealed chamber, Magnus sensed everything through psychic perception.

Though he had resolved to accept death, the near-total annihilation of his sons—and the last survivors kneeling helplessly outside his cell, awaiting execution—was more than he could endure.

His single eye snapped open.

Staring at the ceiling, Magnus exhaled bitterly:

“So even now… I still cannot simply accept this.”

He rose slowly—and let out a deafening roar.

At that moment, the Space Wolves surrounding the chamber fired.

Dozens of bolters thundered, loosing high-explosive rounds designed to pierce power armor and tear flesh apart.

But Magnus’s cry, amplified by overwhelming psychic force, warped the surrounding space like ripples across a lake.

The incoming rounds hit an invisible barrier—and detonated harmlessly in midair.

Not a single fragment reached its mark.

The psychic shockwave continued outward, enveloping nearby Space Wolves.

Their souls were torn apart instantly.

Filled with sorrow and fury, Magnus did not hold back.

This was a killing blow.

Outside the chamber, the surviving Thousand Sons brightened with hope.

Their father had not abandoned them.

The Space Wolves tightened their formation. They knew what was coming.

The true combatants were about to meet.

The chamber doors opened slowly.

Magnus stepped out—tall, imposing, radiating psychic might.

And across from him, Leman Russ emerged from the ranks of the Space Wolves.

The two brothers had never been fond of each other.

But now their faces were marked not by hatred—but by sorrow.

If they could choose, neither would have raised a weapon against his own blood.

But fate had already denied them that choice.

___

🎉 Shoutout to Elchido, Two Hour and Jacob Huffman🎉

A huge thank you to Elchido, Welcome to the VIP club! 🙌✨