Aramus stared at the bolt pistol. Its runes of chaos glowed with a demonic red light, bathing the room in a slight red colour. Such pity. So powerful, yet so horribly corrupted. Capable of such great things, yet equally capable of terrible things.
Techmarine Martellus would probably call it a blasphemy, a insult to the omnissah, the machine god and tear it apart, if he was shown this… thing. Maybe that would be a good idea, to destroy it. But he knew it would be unwise, nobody knew what would happen if the runes on the pistol were broken. It could, worst case scenario, destroy their whole ship, best case scenario, probably kill a few battle brothers. And there was no room for taking such risks, as everything they had been fighting to save from the Tyranids were threatened. Their chapter, their recruiting worlds, the subsector.
He had seen the results of corruption. He had seen the Black Legion traitor marines, their black-gold armour twisted by the warp to the point where it was barely recognisable. He had seen the nearly seven companies of his chapter under Kyras command, blinded by his lies as they destroyed their own recruiting worlds. He had seen Avitus, ranting about how low the chapters honour had gone, being slain personally by Tarkus after betraying them to the Black Legion.
Still, it would mean so much more death to the enemies of mankind. He had seen what it could do. Large amounts of space marines had fell prey to it before the heretic space marine wielding it had been cut down by Aramus's own chainsword. Maybe he could use it once, only once, he could resist the powers of chaos, he could be strong, could use it to end this war faster…
No. Deep down he knew he could not. But such was the lure of chaos. He could almost hear the pistol calling to him, promising many deaths to xenos and traitors alike. But he had to resist the bolt pistols evil will, not pick it up. Not use it, thinking it to be the best, just to be corrupted by it and betray the remains of the chapter still loyal to the emperor much like Avitus.
"You should not use that bolt pistol, Aramus." Aramus turned around to see the librarian Jonah. He did not sound angry, instead sounding rather calm, but he certainly would be angry if Aramus actually used the glowing bolt pistol. "No matter how much it could kill our enemies it would soon be wielded against humanity again, and in your hands. That thing houses a lesser Daemon of Khorne. Do not fall for its trickery." Jonah, being a psyker, could probably see that rather easy, the Daemons presence within the corrupt pistol easily. Almost like Aramus could see he was still tired from the last deployment. The very bolt pistol laying in front of him had hit the librarian, wounding him gravely.
"Do not worry, Jonah. I was simply thinking of the best way to keep it away from anyone else. Its prisoner however brought my trail of thoughts away from that path. But I will not fall to chaos that easily. I'd rather die than betray my brothers."
"I do trust you in that, but be careful. The ruinous powers are nothing to play with. Many have said just that, but have failed to keep their promise, and have fallen to the corruption of the dark gods. I tell you again, be careful. I must go now, captain Angelos has called for me. He told me he wanted to talk about something."
"Then I'll see you later, hopefully before the next deployment." Everyone hoped just that. Their next deployment would be against the great unclean one, Ulkair, and his minion traitor marines. It would be a true hell, and hopefully it would end the greater Daemons freedom and end the war against the traitors.
As Jonah walked away, Aramus sat down. Still wondering what to do with that blasphemous thing, he returned his thoughts to the bolt pistol as he sat down in his office room. He could hear Jonah walking away. It was time to decide what to do with this it.