Chapter 372: Wizard Star? Steroid Planet!

"Caw! Coach, I want to use the Nine Birds Needle Technique!"

"Spin! The muscle of——————"

Boom!!!

A deafening explosion erupted above the lunar surface, Magnus's demonic blood bursting outward like rain.

Saint Guilliman reacted swiftly, channeling his psychic energy to erect a barrier that trapped the bloody rain within a half-circle five to six meters in diameter.

Blood, shredded flesh, and broken bones continuously hammered against Saint Guilliman's psychic barrier, producing a steady patter.

Zhou Yun and Roboute Guilliman exchanged a glance, both eyes filled with confusion.

What just happened?

Just moments ago, Magnus had been roaring about muscle power, trying to fight his two Primarch brothers for three hundred more rounds.

Then, he exploded.

His muscles swelled to their limit, turning red and hot, then snapped apart, spewing blood as his entire body erupted into a crimson blast.

Hearing the patter inside his barrier gradually fade, Saint Guilliman casually dissolved the barrier, exposing the scene to all.

"The last time I saw something this shattered was when Leina practiced her Enthralling Voice on a wild rabbit."

Zhou Yun stared at the crimson pulp scattered across the ground and couldn't help but sigh.

Magnus's entirely psychic flesh had splattered across the ground in a perfect circular pattern.

The muscle fibers within it writhed and twitched, slowly dissolving into pure aether and vanishing into the Warp.

Yet the warp-tainted energies leaking from Magnus's remains still corrupted reality, causing clusters of twisted, grotesque mushrooms to sprout from the ground.

If you looked closely, you'd see each mushroom bore tufts of muscle fibers—disturbing to behold.

"It's the Lord of Change."

Saint Guilliman summoned clusters of blazing golden psychic flames to burn the grotesque mushrooms, then turned his head to speak:

"The Warp is in chaos now—not just the Emperor and the other three gods, but even minor entities are trying to sneak in and bite off a piece of the Lord of Change."

"He's clearly desperate—to quickly reclaim the power he invested in reality, and to stop you from selling off Magnus."

"He actually thought to flood Magnus's body with excessive blessings, bursting him open from within."

Watching the scattered flesh bathed in psychic flame, Saint Guilliman shook his head involuntarily.

Hearing Saint Guilliman's words, Zhou Yun froze for a moment, then couldn't help glancing again at Magnus's remains.

So Magnus was killed by Coach's steroid shot?

"It's because he didn't take Sunflower Liver Protection Pills." He nodded seriously.

Wizard Star, the homeworld of the Thousand Sons after the Burning of Prospero, and the demonic world Magnus claimed within the Warp,

was usually utterly silent.

After all, most of the Thousand Sons had been turned to ash by Ahriman's mistake, becoming mindless puppets.

But today, Wizard Star was unusually noisy.

"Fuck you, Ahriman! I'll kick your helmet off!"

"Give me back my brother! Give me back my legion!!"

"Calm down! Calm down! First, find the Primarch!"

"Don't you dare harm Master Ahriman!"

"Master Ahriman!! Why! Why!"

Two or three dozen Thousand Sons who still retained their wills were screaming in chaos on Wizard Star.

Most of them had been resurrected by Zhou Yun; upon learning what had happened over the past ten thousand years, they demanded to see Magnus.

Ahriman could not refuse his brothers' request—he defied Magnus's exile order and returned to Wizard Star with the Sons of the Lament and the resurrected Thousand Sons.

Seeing the endless rows of mindless red-letter warriors, the resurrected Thousand Sons had no choice but to believe Ahriman's tale: the entire legion had become mindless puppets due to his error—he had destroyed the Thousand Sons.

The damage inflicted on the legion was even greater than that caused by Leman Russ and his Wolves.

Some broke down; others were hollow-eyed and dazed.

Most were furious, screaming accusations at Ahriman, even attacking him directly.

The Nine Sorcerers who followed Ahriman desperately held back the resurrected, but Ahriman merely waved them off, telling them to ignore it.

He stood silent, head bowed, letting bolter rounds, spells, and fists strike his body.

Though silent, Ahriman was now drenched in sweat.

His brothers' rage was one reason.

The other was Magnus.

He had just betrayed Magnus in battle.

Had it not been for his inability to refuse the resurrected brothers' plea, Ahriman would have fled as far from Wizard Star as possible.

And then there was Magnus's condition. The Magnus of today was utterly different from the one ten thousand years ago.

The Magnus who once loved his sons, kind and wise, had vanished—leaving only a cold, cruel, unyielding Sorcerer-King, wholly devoted to the Will of Chaos.

Magnus had already tried to kill Ahriman more than once.

Ahriman considered it—he'd better confess to Magnus directly once he returned to Wizard Star.

That might just buy him a chance to survive. If not, he'd force his way out with the Sons of the Lament.

At that moment, a crimson psychic surge erupted violently.

Twisted wings, a powerful frame, a deep single eye slowly materialized upon Wizard Star.

Magnus had returned to his demonic world.

But his gaze appeared vacant.

"Father!" Ahriman dropped to one knee before Magnus without hesitation: "It was my fault that your plan failed."

"Aaaaaaaaaah—"

Magnus's voice dragged on, laced with confusion.

"It's not your fault that the plan failed."

Hearing this, Ahriman exhaled a deep breath of relief—but then—

"... ut it's unlikely that the plan's failure isn't your fault."

"Huh?" Ahriman's heart clenched; he lifted his head, sensing something strange.

"But don't worry—I'll blame you, but I won't blame you."

"Your mistake was serious, but if you think about it, it's not that serious."

Magnus spoke incoherently, leaving Ahriman increasingly bewildered.

Ahriman sensed something—something odd.

"Father?" he ventured.

"... ho are you?" Magnus stared at Ahriman, as if straining to remember.

Ahriman froze. He cautiously probed Magnus's fate, trying to understand what had happened.

Then—

What is muscle power? What is the Nine Birds Needle Technique? What is the God of Muscle? What is steroids?

What the fuck are Chaos and Doraemon playing at?!

My dad's an idiot!

Ahriman's gaze toward Magnus turned complex.

He couldn't say whether this dumb dad was better or worse than the cold Sorcerer-King of before.

Watching Magnus's eyes wander, searching for something, Ahriman spoke nervously: "Father, you..."

"... re you my child?"

Magnus turned his head to look at Ahriman.

"Don't worry—even though I can't remember what you did or who you are, I won't blame you."

"Huh?" Ahriman opened his mouth in confusion, then blurted: "Why?"

Ahriman's question made Magnus pause.

Then, after a moment, Magnus smiled.

"I've forgotten many things. Many memories are gone."

"But a father loves his children, forgives their mistakes—shouldn't that be natural?"

"If I made a mistake, I'd long for my father's forgiveness."

Ahriman stood frozen, speechless.

But his superior intellect quickly made its judgment:

This dad is better than the old one!

Seeing Magnus still searching for something, Ahriman hurried forward.

"Father, what are you looking for? Can I help?" he said sincerely, hoping to leave a good impression on this new Magnus.

"Gym." Magnus frowned tightly. "Strange—this isn't the planet the God of Muscle gave me?"

"Then this is the Steroid Planet! How come there's no gym on the Steroid Planet?"

"Huh?" Ahriman tilted his head—his brain had just been stunned for the ninth time today.

Eventually, Magnus successfully found the gym on Wizard Star—no, now it was the Steroid Planet.

He enthusiastically dragged Ahriman and all the Thousand Sons into the gym.

Jiamuxi, one of Ahriman's former students resurrected by Zhou Yun, stared blankly around him.

Those red-word warriors without will were warming up under Magnus's leadership.

This abstract scene left even the formerly furious Thousand Sons resurrected ones speechless with bewilderment.

They felt only confusion.

"How did it come to this, Master Ahriman?"

Jamshid murmured.

"Father has immense psychic potential; he thought the Sorcerer Steroid Star should have a gym, so it simply did."

Ahriman, having finished his warm-up, patted Jamshid on the shoulder.

"No, Master, that's not what I meant," Jamshid said, slightly opening his mouth.

"Stop overthinking it! If Father is happy, then let's train!"

"Besides, I have an idea… Ah, never mind, not now."

"Want to train legs with me?"

"When I was on Prospero, I read this saying: If you don't train your legs, you'll regret it someday."

Saying this, Ahriman grabbed Jamshid and began jumping squats together.

(End of Chapter)