Self destruction in one minute and thirty seconds
His sensors were filled with chaotic data as he operated the complex machinery, his mind being almost overwhelmed by having to focus on both opening the Gate, fighting against his own servitors turned into daemon’s slaves, and, if he was being honest, on contemplating his long isolation. It had… hurt to think what had happened to his old comrades. He had always calculated a decent chance that Languin would eventually “explode into demons”, as Drazitine had so succintly put it when he had initally mentioned the risk to the old man, but Eizandra’s fate? That had been a surprise. Few things shook him, but that had done it. There had always been that chance to go and try to reconnect with the Eldar, but… he had just not done it. Perhaps he had always known Eizandra would not have approved of her plans. In a way she had always been more human than him, in some weird Eldar-y way.
Self destruction in one minute and ten seconds
Too late now. He had no interest in conversing with a demon that’s very existence was cruel mockery towards his old friend. Not that he would ever have a chance, now would be his chance to save the people who had confronted him without fear, and made him realize what he had been doing. How insane he had been – to give the keys to such a powerful weapon as the Gate to a mad demon? Hatred is such an insidious foe, you do not realize towards what depths does it take you to. At least, it seemed, his saviors seemed to be successful in their escape. Although… something else got out too? Something fast. He recognized the small vessel, although he didn’t believe it.
Eizandra’s little Eldar ship. He was angry when he realized what must have been piloting it. But, on the other hand, he was also curious. Despite how he felt about the Eldar’s fate, some part of him wanted to see how much of his comrade was left. If there was anything left. Illogical, but wanting to kill trillions upon trillions was also illogical. The massive behemoth with the odd structure on its back was also lumbering towards the portal that had started to warp and tear in unnatural ways, but the topside sensors were beginning to shut down. The end was near.
Self destruction in thirty seconds
Slowly, the massive lumbering construct sat down, with the old Magos getting ready for death. One by one he shut down his sensors, preparing for the final moment. All was silence, and darkness. Peace, and quiet, once again.
Until, all of a sudden, with mere seconds left, he felt a knock on top of his mechanical carapace. Then another. Somewhat annoyed in tone. He reset his ocular sensors, and audio feeds, and realized something was off. Everything seemed to have… stopped. Except for one odd figure, a well-dressed man with a cane who had been hitting his armored shell.
“You are awake! Good! Now hop, hop, and get up. Your escape has been paid for, and I would be a poor merchant if I did not deliver what I promised.”
The burning eyes of the robotic spiderform looked at the man, with the mind behind the machine being utterly confused.
“My escape has been… paid for? Who are you?”
“I am Mister Jenkins, and this-” the man pointed to an odd massive door that the Magos was sure had not been there two minutes ago “- is your way out.”
Kazamov knew not what this was, who was behind this enigmatic escape, but on the other hand, he was an old Magos who had been a part of a legendary Rogue Trader’s retinue. Sometimes bizarre things happened for no discernable reason, and you just learned to live with it. And so, Arch Magos Kazamov, the master of xenotechnology, stepped through a doorway into the unknown. Someone had given him a second chance, and he decided that he would not let it go to waste.
“Oh, one last thing”, Jenkins remembered, shouting after the machine as it walked through the door. “The Huntress told me to say ‘Safe travels, old friend’”
Kazamov instantly swiveled his form back towards the door, but it was already gone, along with the mysterious merchant, leaving him alone on another world of ice. Kazamov knew not where he was, but he saw lights in the horizon. He was no longer on Aventine. He, like those who had flown through the gate, had survived.