Power unlike anything seen in the mortal realm surged forward. A sea of blue psychic flame surged forward the second Trami unleashed his pitiful attack. Magnus had let fly enough power to annihilate an entire world without even blinking. It surged and charged towards Trami, Dorn, the Emperor, and anyone else foolish enough to be in the way. This planet-cracking psychic assault was merely the opening salvo of rage.
Dorn just had to do it, he had to. He had to mention the Space wolves. The filthy, brutish bastards that burned Prospero to the ground. That ignorant, pompous, self-obsessed asshole "LEMON RUSS!?" Magnus found himself screaming the name despite not meaning to. No, this fight was meant to do nothing put thwart the Emperor's plans, but now, now. Everyone would die, horribly. He hadn't even heard his father's arrogant commentary, the rage he harbored against the Space Wolves blotted it all out.
He stepped forward, his ethereal shade becoming corporeal as he did so. He could never have a body in the Materium again, but here, in the Warp, he could have anything. Everything. All at once he was the shining image of his old self. Towering as tall as the Emperor at an easy Ten-plus feet, the skin of his arms bulging with the muscles of a Primarch infused with Chaos. He gripped his old chainaxe tightly, the blue flame of Tzneetch swallowing it whole. The Red Daemon Prince walked the Warp now. His very footfalls sundering the ground.
He swung the great axe as if it were made of cardboard, a torrent of psychic flame shooting off in all directions. A smokescreen that could kill, a direct blast would end the life of a Marine like it was nothing, but the true purpose was to blot out the view. All around the Red Giant, Horrors and Flamers and even a few greater daemons began to crawl out of the ground, or drop down from above. Magnus had an army now, and all his powers to bring to bare. Unless a true miracle happened, no one was going to survive.
Urlaraz had fallen back, along with most of the Black Legion the second the stranger unleashed his blast. The GUO had managed to force it's way into their Warp Portal as well, making them all rather uncomfortable. It was clear that in the greater sense the Black Crusade had failed, and the Sorcerer spent a moment pondering what to do as his allies looked to him for guidance. He could not speak for Abbadon, but he knew the Despoiler well enough to figure the great man wouldn't simply give up.
A deep and raspy breath drew in from his helmet, it was a breath of rage and determination though, not defeat. He locked eyes with the nearest Legion commander and said three little words that would alter the fate of man forever.
"We raze Terra."
All across the holy planet tears in the Warp erupted as the entirety of the Black Legion not participating in the orbital battle, as well as the the Word Bearer's, Warbands of the World Eaters, The Emperor's Children, everything. Every Traitor Legion was now present in some capacity, from all men, to a few bands. It was literal hell on Terra as thousand and thousands of Chaos Marines, soldiers, Sorcerers, and cultists poured forth. Along with a host of Daemons the like of which had never been seen outside the Warp.
Great Unclean One's, Changers of Fate, Great Daemons of Khorne all joined in. This was do-or-die for Chaos, and it choose Do.
The destruction was wrought at blinding speed, entire massive cities blinking into rubble and screams. The Emperor might live again, but he'd have no throne to return to. The bulk of these horrific Warp-forces spread out across the planet, happy to spread their damage to Continental scale, but the Black Legion focused on the palace.
Urlaraz hurled great chains of lightning at it, GUO's pressed forward, bands of Khornite Berzerkers under the Black Legion's Banner charged forth, Chainswords and Axes flailing wildly. Chants from every aspect of Chaos filled the air, rising above the devastation. This was the power of the Warp. This was a true Crusade. This was Chaos, Undivided.
Unless something truly earth shattering was done, Holy Terra would be nothing but a memory in the span of a few hours.
Daemos had still been wakened so far, and being pulled into the Warp didn't help at all. The whispers inside his head from the battlefield had roared into shouts. It took all of his strength to stand upright in this place, and keep his anger at bay. So much anger, so much rage. Where had it come from? Why? What purpose did it serve? And perhaps most concerning, why was so much of it directed at the High Emperor? He grit his teeth as Weilacca spoke, raising his hammer and bristling with the need to smite him, but the blue flames came first.
Daemos tapped into his node and unleashed a mighty wave of his own flame, but it barely shielded himself, or Weilacca. He fell to a knee, dropping his hammer as he did so. His right arm covered in burns and unable to grip. He stayed like that for a moment, growling in rage. "Weilacca. I'm going to Synch. Cover me." All pretense of servitude had left his voice. He sounded like nothing more than an angry animal giving a command. He stood as he finished speaking, the Anya inside him swelling. "Stay back."
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