Beep-beep-beep—
Dreamweaver's augur arrays kept screaming warnings, red light washing over Eden's near-perfect face.
And it was not only the brawl right in front of them—Aeldari, a Chaos warband, and a Tyranid splinter all tangled together.
Within this minor asteroid system, the scanners had also detected two additional anomalous energy disturbances, each assessed as a battle.
In other words, three wars were unfolding at the same time—and none of them were small.
The engagement frequency and intensity in this region exceeded anything considered normal. It truly lived up to its name: the Vigilus war zone, the galaxy's meat grinder.
The life here seemed born for war.
"Savage local customs, and so many bodies to throw into the furnace… Every species just keeps fighting and breeding harder."
Eden sighed.
Survival of the fittest.
To avoid extinction, every race and faction in the Vigilus war zone was frantically burning through its own developmental potential—pushing war production, squeezing out more warriors, faster, at any cost.
And now, as blackstone's value continued to soar, the Vigilus region had become—at least on paper—one of the most valuable areas within the Imperium's borders.
Of course, Vigilus was "Imperial territory" only in theory. In practice, humanity had long since lost control of it.
At best, mankind counted as one of the larger factions in the area.
Eden could scarcely imagine how many lives the Imperium would have to spend to truly seize this treasure sector.
"No matter what, the suffering here should have ended long ago."
Eden watched the melee in silence and spoke softly.
He had not come to this sector to bring more slaughter.
He had come to create peace.
The ultimate goal was development and construction here—building a stable, prosperous Vigilus region.
"Our allies will likely need help. End the war in front of us as quickly as possible."
Eden turned and issued the order to his aide, Tarko.
He could tell at a glance: that craftworld was badly weakened, slipping into collapse, hanging by a thread.
He had to help this potential ally. And if possible—better still—he would take the opportunity to secure the craftworld itself.
Eden had not forgotten his promise to Perturabo: he would get him an Aeldari craftworld to study its technologies.
After giving the order, Eden returned to the sanctuary's bedchamber to rest, his consciousness sinking into another body.
Craftworld Aeldari were fiercely independent. Every craftworld had its own creed and pursuit.
No one knew how this craftworld would view humanity. It would be wiser to negotiate under another identity.
Fortunately, he had prepared for this long ago. Using a cloned body—and the identity of the Aeldari saviour Asurmen—he had brought Drukhari forces along.
No matter how stubborn the craftworlders were, in the face of disaster they should not refuse a distant kinsman's aid.
Humm—
Eden slowly closed his eyes. His awareness fell into silence, then latched onto another cloned body.
…
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—
A Void Stalker-class battleship, more than thirty kilometers long, appeared in the void. Aside from a craftworld itself, it was among the largest Aeldari warships in existence.
Compared to the lumbering craftworlds—often the size of half a moon or even an asteroid—this vessel was far more agile, better suited to fleet combat.
Then more Aeldari cruisers arrived, and sleek sail-like escort craft, densely packed.
Beneath the light of a dying star, their hulls shimmered with an eerie glow.
On every ship, the World Tree sigil was visible—proof that this fleet belonged to the great Aeldari saviour Asurmen.
That being had founded the Aeldari's last homeland—Redemption Elysium—holding the total wealth of the Drukhari. Even Harlequin troupes and the Ynnari regarded him with awe.
They had allied with him in exchange for a place to live.
Deep within the Void Stalker-class battleship, on the bridge.
An extravagant throne of wraithbone inlaid with spirit stones towered above all, and a magnificent figure sat upon it—noble beyond question.
"My lord, your fleet has arrived in the target area. We may enter battle at any time…"
Ilyss gazed up at Asurmen upon the throne, a flicker of devotion crossing her eyes. This Lhamean worshiped that exalted being with all her heart.
She had witnessed, with her own eyes, how this noble scion of an ancient bloodline had built Redemption Elysium step by step.
The once-fractured Drukhari, the pirates who drifted among the stars—under his guidance they ended their infighting and united as never before.
No longer did his kin fear the Dark Prince's predation. Their souls were no longer parched and maddened, but instead gradually became full.
They grew stronger.
Now the Drukhari were wealthier than ever, and no longer as base or filthy as they once were.
They were a noble people. They preferred trade to accumulate wealth. Even humans had come seeking alliance.
Raiding had no future.
Any Drukhari within Redemption Elysium who still chose to live as pirates—burning, killing, looting—would inevitably be scorned and spat upon.
They would be treated as lesser beings, granted no respect. Not only would they be barred from entering the Elysium, they would not even be able to hold their heads up among their own kind.
The people of Redemption Elysium despised the pirates still wandering the stars, believing them dirty and uncivilized.
Many nobles even declared they would sever all ties with those "low" pirates—that they were not the same kind at all.
Everything was changing, just as the great saviour Asurmen had said:
We are born noble. With our own hands, we will restore the glory of old.
"Then let us go and save our cousins, and bring them redemption…"
Upon the wraithbone throne, Eden opened his eyes. His irises shone a brilliant blue as he spoke the command.
He rose slowly, descending the steps from the throne.
Succubus attendants stepped forward, straightening his appearance and lightly dusting him with powder and a special perfume.
They ensured that their great lord would appear before his kin in the most flawless image possible.
Eden looked over the Drukhari gathered in the hall and nodded in satisfaction.
In a little over twenty years of reform, their appearance had changed beyond recognition.
Those grotesque grafted limbs had been cut away. Their bodies no longer reeked of filth and blood. Even their armor had become more elegant, more beautiful.
Under Eden's transformation, Drukhari quality had improved dramatically. Compared to before, it was like night and day.
In any case, as the saviour, Eden had made a tremendous contribution to peace across the galaxy.
Across the galaxy, the number of Drukhari pirates had dropped by at least two-thirds, and more pirates were steadily turning away from the old ways.
Eden's ultimate hope was to absorb all remaining remnants of the Aeldari's shattered empire, reducing hostility between them and humanity as much as possible.
An alliance—against a shared enemy.
So, in time, the label "Drukhari" would be discarded. They would be called simply Aeldari, or the long-lived—unifying more into Redemption Elysium.
But reaching that goal would take time.
At present, the Aeldari as a whole were still fragmented. Beyond the Drukhari, the Harlequins, and the Ynnari—
Many more craftworlders and Exodites were scattered across the galaxy.
These vast branches made up the overwhelming majority of the Aeldari population, each governing themselves.
They would have to be brought, little by little, into Eden's system.
Fortunately, it was not an impossible task. The only active goddess who could shelter Aeldari souls was within Redemption Elysium.
Which meant Eden held the core resource the Aeldari needed most.
Now, Redemption Elysium was already sending emissaries to contact Aeldari branches wandering among the stars, seeking to win them over whenever possible.
"My objective this time is to bring in every Aeldari group in the Vigilus region—craftworlders, Exodites, and the roaming Aeldari pirates alike…"
Eden thought to himself.
That was what made this region so distinctive. The stars were packed with every race and faction imaginable, each with their own territory and borders.
Even among the Aeldari, friction and war could erupt.
Boom-boom-boom—
A tremor rolled through the flagship. Massive volleys of pulsar lances and plasma torpedoes launched, detonating in space and blooming into splendid ion clouds.
The war had begun.
Eden stepped onto the terrace and looked out through a crystalline membrane.
Beyond the void battle—warships of every kind, living bio-ships—there was also a metallic wall-like structure stretching to the edge of the sky.
That was the outer layer of the craftworld: nearly a thousand kilometers long, with the mass of an asteroid.
So when a fleet assaulted a craftworld, it felt like attacking a small planet.
It was awe-inspiring.
"What extraordinary forging craft… The Aeldari empire at its height must have been wealthy beyond terror."
Eden found himself thinking that—and the desire to obtain every craftworld grew even stronger.
Use these giants to move cargo, and how could the human Imperium and the galaxy not surge into prosperity?
One day, humanity—having absorbed every technology and turned it to its own use—might become even stronger than in the Dark Age of Technology.
And never fall again.
"My lord, the Alaitoc craftworld has sent a transmission. They say they accept the rescue offered by our Elysium forces and our human allies."
Ilyss approached and reported the latest development.
Eden looked up. His troops filled his vision—Aeldari and human alike.
A scene where everyone present was "his own people" felt… right.
"Then we land. Help them drive out the invaders."
As he spoke, Eden headed toward the embarkation deck where the assault skiffs waited.
At present, the combined fleet had intercepted and destroyed the warships of the Chaos warband and Tyranid splinter. Realizing they could not win, the enemy was already retreating and fleeing.
But large numbers of hostiles still remained inside the Alaitoc craftworld.
Unfortunately, Eden still lacked the ability to build a small Webway node within a ship. Otherwise, he could have used a Webway gate to reach the craftworld's interior directly.
Most craftworlds had small Webway portals—extremely convenient.
That was another reason he coveted them.
If humanity could establish similar Webway nodes on every planet, the convenience would be beyond imagination.
Not only could armies be everywhere, humans could also travel freely to other worlds, and his rule would become tighter and more cohesive.
From a certain perspective, a ruler's influence was equal to the sophistication of their transportation routes.
In the past, the Imperium's territory had been far too loose. The central authority's influence over distant regions was maintained largely through shared faith.
Many regions simply paid a "protection fee," and some did not even pay that.
The eleventh tithe was harsh and bloody, but its reach mostly extended only to regions along Imperial routes where ships could come and go frequently.
Not long after, Eden boarded a skiff, bringing a large force of elite troops as he headed for the Alaitoc craftworld's entry point.
…
Earlier, within the Alaitoc craftworld.
Alaitoc's Seer Council hall lay beneath an aging dome, standing among jagged peaks and collapsed towers.
It sat atop the vast craftworld, wrapped in a cocoon of psychic force that made the dome flicker in and out between realspace and the Warp—
Only the council members—the seers—could ensure they found the dome after passing through the ancient Webway gate.
Any other unauthorized visitor, even if they forced their way through the Webway gate, would find only emptiness—or worse, a path into the twisted agony of the Warp.
Now, Alaitoc's seers gathered here. In their tainted eyes lurked unease.
This craftworld had suffered an invasion unlike any before.
The greatest threat did not come from the human Chaos thralls or the swarm. Those were merely the last straw that broke the camel's back.
The truly terrifying presence was the Dark Prince.
Never before had it coveted this Aeldari world so intensely. Disasters were unfolding. Daemons poured in through fissures, battering defenses across countless regions.
Their forces were disastrously insufficient—trouble within and enemies without.
"The veil of fate is clouding over. It is drinking the souls of our kin…"
An old seer in grey robes hissed, his deeply wrinkled face deathly pale.
He was the eldest among the Seer Council, heavy with the weight of time.
"Our people… may have nowhere left to go."
This old seer's soul was terribly weak, drained to near emptiness, as if it might lose all support at any moment—then be fed into the ancient infinity circuit,
to receive true rest at last.
The seers heard him and grew even more fearful, yet helpless.
At every moment they could feel the Dark Prince watching them, tugging at their souls.
Even spirit stones no longer gave them a sense of safety.
The dome's infinity circuit—white as a spring of light—seemed to tremble as well, struggling to endure.
"We need more spirit stones to fill the gaps in the circuit. The Guardians also need the protection of spirit stones.
"Their souls are exposed—without any safeguard."
One seer spoke grimly.
The prolonged war had drained Alaitoc's supply of spirit stones.
Not only had the infinity circuit been affected, even some Guardians no longer wore spirit stones.
As for ordinary kin, it went without saying—they shivered beneath greedy eyes.
"Our brethren on the maiden worlds refused our request. There are no spirit stones, and there is no time. I have seen extinction."
Another seer's voice shook.
Compared to ordinary kin, the seers were far more sensitive to the Warp, and suffered more of Chaos's torment.
Their will was on the brink.
They could even feel that dreadful greed growing stronger—so strong it began to pierce the veil directly, slipping into their kin's awareness.
Gradually, every face in the council hall turned toward the tall figure at the center—
Elarai.
This seer was pure as an elf of legend, her beauty exquisite. A white robe draped freely over her graceful form,
as though stirred by a forest breeze.
Elarai was Alaitoc's youngest and most powerful seer, better able to resist Chaos's influence.
All their kin hoped she could find a path to survival.
At this moment, sorrow filled Elarai's blue eyes.
Connected to the infinity circuit, her perception could extend without limit across this world.
Every explosion's shock, every scream of pain, every daemon, Chaos Space Marine, and clawing swarm—it all stabbed her heart.
Their kin were dying, many without even the chance to enter a spirit stone.
Elarai had done everything she could to protect the veils across all regions, yet she could do no more. There was no strength left to give.
Suddenly, Elarai's blue eyes brightened. She saw a future.
At the same time, the veil of fate grew clearer, resisting Chaos's corrosion. A new path appeared.
Elarai gently wiped the tears at the corner of her eye and looked to the assembled seers.
"The children of Alaitoc have received reinforcements. Our distant kin from Commorragh, and the short-lived humans, are willing to support this world."
"Our distant kin… and the short-lived."
The seers' faces tightened with resistance.
Those pirate "kin" were not only cruel but infamous. Even their stench was unbearable.
To craftworlders, the Drukhari were like a filthy, impoverished relative who burned, killed, and looted.
Sometimes they even raided craftworlds.
They could not be trusted.
As for the human short-lived, they were even more detestable than the pirate kin—wicked beyond measure, one of the most shameless and brutal species in the galaxy.
Not long ago, they had heard that humans had wiped out a cousin's colony world—
nearly burned it to the ground.
The seers feared these so-called "allies" had come to loot a burning house.
"The children of Alaitoc stand at the edge of extinction. We have no other choice. And I have seen a new road upon the veil of fate."
There was unprecedented resolve in Elarai's blue eyes as she made the decision outright.
"We cannot face the darkness alone. I have agreed to ally with them, and I have permitted the reinforcements to enter Alaitoc!"
The High Seer's firmness left the others unable to refute her.
They fell into silence, forced to accept this fate.
After a time, the old seer finally spoke, trembling.
"No matter what, we must guard ourselves against those distant kin and the short-lived.
"Once the war ends, we make them leave this world.
"Especially those distant kin. If they cling to us, we may have to pay a price to be rid of them."
The old seer frowned deeply, calculating how much of the craftworld's wealth it would take to send away those "poor relatives."
Elarai said nothing, tacitly accepting the decision.
Even with the veil of fate's guidance, Alaitoc had to stay alert to the danger its allies might pose.
If they chose to help, they would want something in return.
But no matter what, the children of Alaitoc had only one priority now:
Survive.
…
Alaitoc craftworld, outer regions.
A luxurious skiff of dark-gold hues cut through the flames of war, arriving at the craftworld.
On the terrace.
"What a dreadful world.
"I can feel my soul exposed to the dark radiation…"
Ilyss stared at this ruined, withered realm and could not help but cry out.
Perhaps to other Aeldari—or other species—this world still retained some splendor and life.
But to those long accustomed to Redemption Elysium, with their souls full, it was unbearable.
Especially when she caught the stink in the air.
The filth of Chaos—nothing like the pure air of the Elysium, rich with the fragrance of souls.
"My lord, I beg you, do not come out for the moment."
Ilyss stopped the great Asurmen from stepping out, quickly activating the crystal veil linking to the hall, sealing off the outside air.
She feared the inferior atmosphere here might taint that great and noble being.
The Lhamean ordered the succubus attendants to purge the contaminated air from this area, replace it with the pure air of the Elysium, and mist it with soul-perfume.
Only then did she finally invite the great Asurmen out.
Eden looked over the craftworld shrouded in corrosion and warfire, and frowned lightly.
"How did our cousin Aeldari end up living like this?
"That won't do."
(End of Chapter)
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