The glowing sun at its centre seemed to swell, spilling light outwards in a blinding wave, and as the Undying One threw out its hands, the Nexus Arrangement began to operate as its creator had intended… and a psychic black hole was torn open.
-
Across the continents of Boros Prime, unaugmented men and Astartes reeled as the effects of the Nexus Arrangement washed over them. Many of them fell to their knees, gasping, as a terrible, aching pain clutched at the very fibres of their being. It felt as though their souls were being wrenched from their bodies and cast into the abyss, leaving them empty and hollow, mere shells.
A terrible, all-pervading pall of utter futility descended upon Boros Prime, affecting even the most fervent and strong-willed individuals. Millions of soldiers and civilians simply gave up, their will to fight fading, their will to even live deserting them. Some, men who moments before had been fighting for their lives, dropped their weapons and sank to the ground, a fugue of hopelessness overcoming them. With haunted, unfocussed eyes they stared into the distance, oblivious or simply not caring about what was occurring around them. Others turned their weapons on themselves, unable to live with this gut-wrenching emptiness in their souls.
Tens of thousands were slaughtered by the merciless necron warriors marching steadily through the streets, gunning down every living creature that they encountered, whether they resisted or not. It was a harvest of sickening proportions. The streets were awash with blood, and mutilated corpses and severed limbs were scattered about like discarded toys.
Those with the strongest warp presence suffered the worst. Blood clots blossomed within the minds of Imperial astropaths and the sanctioned psykers attached to the command sections of the Boros Guard, and they collapsed to the ground, their bodies wracked with violent convulsions, screaming incoherently as their souls were torn from their fragile bodies.
‘What in the Emperor’s name has happened?’ breathed Aquilius, clutching at a marble railing for balance.
Librarian Epistolary Liventius’s eyes were clenched tightly shut, and his teeth were bared in a grimace of pain. A droplet of blood ran from his left nostril.
‘My lord?’ said Aquilius in concern. The Librarian was leaning heavily upon his force staff, and after a moment he opened his eyes. They were bloodshot and sunken. He placed a hand to his temple, a shadow passing across his face.
‘My powers,’ breathed the Librarian. ‘They are gone.’
-
In orbit above Boros Prime, the Infidus Diabolus shuddered as if it had been struck with cyclonic torpedoes. It listed heavily to one side, its hull groaning in protest as the daemons that had infused its essence since before the outbreak of the Horus Heresy were banished. The strike cruiser’s central processing cogitator units sputtered and died. Reliant on the daemon essences bound into its mainframe, the ship’s thinking computers and hard-wired servitors were unable to function as the malicious spirits were driven out. The ship threatened to come apart at the seams, so intrinsic was the warp to its very existence.
Marduk dropped to his knees, a terrible empty pain clutching at his hearts as he felt his connection to the warp stripped away.
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