Magnus the Red stood at the center of his chamber, his crimson armor gleaming under the light of shimmering psionic constructs floating above. He turned his massive frame toward the approaching figures, his single eye glowing faintly with interest. Ahriman led the way, his expression unreadable as always, but Magnus's focus was on the Astartes behind him. Their armor was dark, unembellished, and yet there was something commanding about the way they moved. Their presence was different – not in the way of psykers or sorcerers, but sharp, contained, and precise. They were also relaxed, however, not a flicker of worry about them, as though they had no problems.
Magnus's curiosity flared. His brow lifted as he took in the five warriors of the Devourers Legion, their very existence a source of fascination. These were the sons of his brother, Ryomen Sukuna, and Magnus had been eager – no, impatient – to meet them. The stories had spread quickly, reaching even Prospero. Campaigns fought and won with astonishing precision, battles that ended before they truly began, foes dispatched with methods Magnus could only describe as surgical.
But it wasn't just their battlefield success that intrigued him. Their Sorcery – if it could even be called that—was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Malcador's reports had been thorough, though perhaps deliberately clinical. Magnus had read every word, dissecting the descriptions of Jujutsu Sorcery. Unlike his own methods, which tapped into the Immaterium and drew power from its endless depths, theirs operated on a principle entirely foreign to him. Same, but different – but still same. Their abilities stemmed from what Malcador called the "Jujutsu Filter," a mutation in their psychic organs that reshaped how they interacted with the Warp.
Magnus had lingered on that term: Filter. A mechanism that limited the dangers of the Immaterium, creating a controlled flow of energy while blocking out the malevolent forces that sought to corrupt. To Magnus, this was more than fascinating—it was revolutionary. Such a mutation might hold the answer to his greatest challenge: the Flesh Change, the dark curse that threatened to consume his sons. If he could understand this filter, unlock its secrets, he might finally rid the Thousand Sons of their burden.
After all, through some means yet unknown, Sukuna was able to grant this power to a few within the Salamanders and the Luna Wolves Legions, including Horus and Vulkan, who were now Jujutsu Sorcerers of great power and strength. Vulkan supposedly had the ability to transform raw warp energy into pure matter, a branch of sorcery that was otherwise known as Transmutation – or Alteration. Vulkan's version was simply more focused, more narrow, but that also made it more powerful. As far as the reports went, Vulkan was apparently capable of creating miniature stars on the palm of his hands. Horus, meanwhile, possessed the ability to take control of any living being that ingested his blood, allowing him to partake in their senses and their memories – an incredibly potent power in Horus' hands.
The only conclusion that Magnus could possibly arrive at was that Jujutsu Sorcery could be passed on – somehow, through Sukuna, or through whoever he infected with it. After all, the greatest, now, among the Salamanders and the Luna Wolves were either Psykers or Jujutsu Sorcerers.
As Ahriman and the Devourers approached, Magnus's grin widened. He took a step forward, arms outstretched in an exuberant gesture. His towering frame radiated warmth, his voice ringing out with a sincerity rarely seen in the halls of Prospero.
"Welcome! Welcome! I did not expect to meet my esteemed nephews so soon!" Magnus's single eye gleamed as it roamed over them, searching for the subtle signs of their gifts.
The Devourers halted in unison, their movements precise but unhurried. Their leader, a towering Astartes with his helm clipped at his waist, stepped forward. His expression was calm, unreadable, though his posture held a quiet confidence.
Strong. Magnus mused. Very strong. Though contained, the energies that swirled within the Astartes was intense – powerful.
"Magnus the Red," the Devourer said, bowing his head slightly. His voice was steady, but there was a sharpness in it, like a blade hidden beneath silk. "We come to you at the behest of our Primarch, Lord Ryomen Sukuna."
Magnus's grin deepened. "Ah, my brother has thought of me. Excellent! I've been most eager to meet him – and you."
His gaze flicked between the five warriors, lingering on their armor, their unadorned weapons, and the way they seemed to stand apart from the energies around them. No fluctuation of the Warp emanated from them, no telltale ripple of psychic power. It was as if the Immaterium itself hesitated to touch them.
One of the Devourers reached into a compartment on his armor, retrieving a sealed letter. The wax bore Sukuna's personal sigil, a swirling design that Magnus instantly recognized. The Devourer stepped forward, extending the letter with both hands. Magnus took it carefully, his massive fingers surprisingly gentle as he broke the seal.
"For your eyes only, Lord Magnus." the Devourer said.
Magnus glanced up, his curiosity sharpening. He nodded, then turned the letter over in his hands, noting the weight of the parchment and the faint aura it carried. Sukuna's energy was faint but unmistakable, a signature as sharp and distinct as a blade. He could already tell this letter would hold more than words. After all, if it held only words, then Sukuna would not have bothered sending it in this manner. No, his sibling meant for it to be this way, meanings meant to be conveyed without anyone the wiser. For his eyes only...
What could it possibly be?
Idly, Magnus felt giddy at the prospect of a good mystery. Too many things, these days, were becoming mundane and banal, with only the mysteries of the Immaterium keeping him entertained and engaged and curious.
He gestured to a table crafted from polished obsidian, where luminous texts floated gently in the air. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Ahriman, see to their needs. Wine, perhaps? Food? You're guests underneath my roof and it's only proper to give you the honors you deserve."
Ahriman inclined his head. Magnus did not miss the flicker of happiness that surged through his friend. Ahriman was a lover of wine. And he had quite the collection of vintages and was always eager to show them off to... well... anyone, really, even prisoners – at times.
"Of course, my lord." He moved to the side, gesturing for the Devourers to follow. They exchanged brief glances before complying, their movements synchronized, efficient, but also laid back, strolling about the place as though they owned it – with casual ease.
Magnus's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, an absent smile playing on his lips. He returned his attention to the letter, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. Sukuna's presence loomed over this exchange, distant but potent; how could it not? Magnus exhaled, his massive shoulders shifting as he prepared to read. Looking back, he could not recall the last time anyone ever sent him a letter
Magnus unfurled the scroll with deliberate care, his fingers tracing the edges of the parchment as he lifted it closer to his single, burning eye. The crimson orb narrowed as he began to read, his brow furrowing slightly.
To Magnus,
There will be a trial against you to determine if Librarians hold a place within the Legions. I'm sure you were not told this in advance – or perhaps you were. Honestly, I don't care. What matters now is not what you've been told, but how you approach what's coming.
I know you. You're passionate, eloquent, and a master of argument. But if you think passion alone will sway your brothers, you're sorely mistaken. Many of them have already made up their minds. You'll need more than words of conviction. You'll need proof, Magnus – evidence.
Start with practical applications. Show them what Librarians bring to the battlefield. Pull up data, campaign records, and statistics that highlight their contributions. Display how useful Psykers have been not only in your campaigns but in those of your brothers, even if indirectly. Leave no doubt in their minds that Librarians are an asset worth preserving.
And yet, this cannot be just a defense of what you are. Listen carefully to what your detractors say. There will be voices in that trial calling for restraint. For regulation. You may think it beneath you, but compromise is the key. Give them enough to feel they've been heard without conceding your principles. Offer to refine the training of Librarians, to set clearer guidelines on their deployment. Whatever it takes to calm their fears while preserving their existence.
I don't know the specifics of the regulations they might demand. That's your problem, not mine. What I can tell you is that walking into this trial with defiance alone will see you crushed. There are many who distrust what they don't understand. And even more who will seek to use this trial as a platform for their own agendas.
If you approach this with a closed mind, you'll lose everything. But if you listen – truly listen – and adapt, there's a chance this ends in a victory for both sides. Restraint. Compromise. Balance. These are words I suspect you dislike. Use them anyway.
Or don't. Do whatever you wish with your life. I've given my advice. What you do with it is entirely up to you.
Ryomen Sukuna,
Magnus's hands lowered the scroll, his expression unreadable as he glanced toward the horizon. The words on the parchment burned in his mind, sharper than the ink that formed them. They were not an admonishment, nor an encouragement, but a challenge. A mirror held up to his pride, forcing him to weigh its cost against the future of the Librarius.
For a moment, his lips twitched – whether in amusement or irritation, not even he could tell. He rolled the scroll carefully, his eye flickering with a faint light. Sukuna's words were blunt and cutting, but there was no denying their weight. Restraint. Compromise. Balance. Begrudgingly, he admitted that those were the tools he would need, whether he liked it or not.
Tucking the scroll away, Magnus turned back toward his waiting sons. His cloak billowed faintly in the wind as he strode forward, his expression now calm, his purpose clear. He had much to consider. And a trial to prepare for. Nikaea loomed over the horizon. They were waiting for him, down there, but they could wait a few more days.
Sukuna watched impassively as a nameless servitor redid the black pedicure on his fingernails. Across him, the Emperor let out an exasperated sigh and ran a hand across his face. He was not quite angry, but he certainly wasn't happy either. Sukuna noted that, in that moment, he looked almost like a cat-owner who suddenly discovered that their feline had escaped its confinement, raided the neighbor's pantry, and came back covered in fish and flour. "Did you have to send the letter? What even made you think that was a good idea, Sukuna?"
Sukuna shrugged. "You didn't tell me not to. Besides, it's more interesting this way, isn't it? If Magnus bothered reading and internalizing my letter, then he might just be able to come up with a convincing-enough argument and, maybe, everybody wins. Or not. I honestly just didn't want to see him spout nonsense, when everyone else has already prepared."
"I'm going to assume that you're not exactly in favor of banning the Librarius?" The Emperor asked.
Sukuna shrugged. "Don't care. It doesn't affect me, anyway. What I can say on the matter, however, is that deliberately imposing limitations on the self when all that's required is training and discipline sounds rather stupid to me. So, I suppose one could say that I am not in favor of banning the Librarius."
"Training and discipline..." The Emperor muttered. "I can't fault your reasoning, given your personal experience on the matter. But, unlike Jujutsu Sorcery, Pure Sorcery is unreliable, dangerous, seductive, and corruptive. Librarians do not possess the benefit of the Jujutsu Filter as you and your fellow Jujutsu Sorcerers do."
Sukuna shrugged again, eyeing the servitor as it moved from one fingernail to another. "Hence the need for discipline and training."
AN: Chapter 49 is out on (Pat)reon!