"Hiss...
"Brother, you really can't say things like that so casually. That flag you just planted is way too strong!"
The moment Eden heard Dorn's confident declaration, he sucked in a sharp breath and could not help thinking exactly that.
It was way too ominous.
If Chaos did not come after a line like that, it would almost be disrespectful.
Rogal Dorn looked at the Savior's worried expression, and his own face grew even more serious.
"I know you tend to be cautious, Brother, but the Solar System's defenses are already tighter than they have ever been before.
"Even Terra's defenses ten thousand years ago were nowhere near what they are now. Please trust my judgment as Praetorian."
To be honest, the defensive strength of the new Imperium was so excessive that even he was still not entirely used to it. All he could do was keep adapting.
After all, in the past Rogal Dorn had always been the one holding the walls alone, grinding it out in misery, with every defensive line teetering on the edge of collapse.
But now, looking at Terra's current defenses, even he had no idea how he would break them if he were the one attacking.
If he had possessed this level of defensive power ten thousand years ago, what would have been the point of sitting behind walls? He would have led the Imperial armies out and crushed the enemy outright.
Fortunately, after days of constant study, Rogal Dorn had gradually begun adapting to the new Imperium's defensive doctrine, while also reinforcing the relevant lines still further.
He had pushed them to the absolute limit of his own standards in defensive warfare.
He firmly believed this was the most impregnable fortress line he had ever commanded, and he had full confidence in facing any enemy Chaos might send.
Hearing that, Eden did not question him further. Dorn had already said it that plainly.
And Dorn truly was the Primarch best suited to bear this responsibility.
At the very least, he had vast experience in defensive warfare, and he could also apply the lessons learned from the siege ten thousand years ago. This time, he should be able to do even better.
"I trust your ability.
"Among all of us brothers, you are the one most skilled in the art of defense."
Eden patted this Praetorian, this master of fortification, on the shoulder and expressed his trust openly.
"I should be back within two months. During that time, everything in the Solar System is in your hands.
"You must maintain the highest level of vigilance."
He was still worried that the Chaos Gods might make trouble while he was gone and inflict serious damage upon the Imperium or the Emperor.
That possibility could not be ignored.
"In the name of our Father, I, Rogal Dorn, am the Imperium's final wall. I will carry out my duty and allow no heretic or xenos to set foot within our borders!"
Dorn's face was resolute, his expression stern, as he made that promise like an oath.
Then he looked at the Savior with blazing eyes.
"Brother, go without worry. When you return, we'll drink together."
"Third Brother, with you here, I can head into the Warp at ease."
Eden nodded with satisfaction and turned away decisively.
But the moment he turned around, his expression darkened a little. He could not shake the feeling that there were way too many flags being planted now.
This was starting to feel bad.
"Tarko, redeploy another batch of troops to the outer perimeter of the Solar System. Also notify Lion, the Khan, and Primarchs like Perturabo.
"Tell them to be ready to reinforce the Solar System at a moment's notice."
Eden quietly sent the message to his adjutant, instructing him to pile even more troops around the Solar System.
Just in case.
It was not that he did not trust Rogal Dorn. He simply felt that more troops meant more safety, and besides, the more the merrier.
After meeting with Rogal Dorn, Eden quietly returned to the Savior's Sanctum.
He activated his special decoy double to cover his tracks.
The fewer people who knew he was heading into the Chaos Warp, the better. If possible, it would be best not to let the Chaos Gods know at all.
After all, that was their home turf.
If the Chaos Gods learned of it, they would most likely interfere with his mission, or perhaps lay a trap in the Warp and try to hunt him down.
That would be troublesome.
But compared to the threat of the Chaos Gods, Eden was even more worried about the Golden Throne exploding and the Emperor ascending as a god.
The Throne-ejection apparatus was still under construction. If the Emperor ascended as the Dark King, the first things to take the impact would be humanity itself and the Hope Sun, which was closest to the Holy Sun.
At that point, he would probably get pinned down and beaten senseless by the Dark King. Whether he could even escape was anyone's guess.
So no matter what, he had to risk a trip into the Warp and bring back the Eternal Soul from the Dark Age of Technology.
Once that was done, the relevant researchers would be able to complete the Throne restoration apparatus once and for all, removing the threat of the Golden Throne.
Only then would humanity truly be free of this crisis. Only then would he be able to spare his attention to deal with the threats in the galaxy and the Warp.
Otherwise, he could only keep piling vast armies around the Solar System and Holy Terra.
Soon after that.
As space rippled, a dark-purple rift filled with roiling, prismatic color appeared out of nowhere.
It was a small Warp gate created by the Hope Sun.
Without hesitation, Eden stepped into it against the torrent of chaotic energy, and his figure slowly disappeared.
He secretly departed for the Warp.
Afterward, the spatial disturbance was blocked layer upon layer by Blackstone devices. No information could be transmitted out.
Not even powerful psykers or Chaos entities could sense it.
And yet, the moment Eden quietly slipped away from Holy Terra, a faint signal passed through the void into the Warp.
That tiny fragment of information seemed to cross time and space, arriving at an impossible speed within a realm of Chaos.
That Chaos domain was incomparably vast, filled with palaces made of colored energies and crystal.
Countless fragments of information and knowledge flowed within it.
"Ah, the pitiful Savior has finally bitten the bait and dragged himself into an abyss from which there is no return."
After receiving the faint signal, the Changer of Ways' immense, ever-shifting, iridescent body swelled further, unable to conceal its excitement. Tzeentch is commonly rendered in English as the Changer of Ways, while Khorne is the Blood God. (wh40k.lexicanum.com)
He had received word from the web of fate. The Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, had already left Terra.
During this recent period, the Changer of Ways had secretly woven layer upon layer of networks around Terra, like one web over another.
Any movement on Terra would make the threads tremble, carrying the information back.
He could also manipulate the web to guide the fate of that region, such as ensuring the Savior learned of a certain piece of information, a certain ancient human vessel.
Only a piece of intelligence important enough like that could lure that infuriating man away from humanity's nest.
And now that Savior, that Emperor of the Imperium, had followed his guidance into the boundless Chaos Warp.
This was the best possible chance to eliminate the threat of the Cursed One!
"Slaughter!"
"Heh. Humanity shall bathe in the loving embrace of plague..."
"Slurp. Delight longs for the withered, cursed body upon that Throne."
At some point, three colossal phantom forms appeared, and surging energies intertwined within the Changer of Ways' palace.
The power of the Blood God, the Plague Father, and the Prince of Pleasure had also projected into this region.
Countless remnants and echoes murmured through their own mouths, voicing the desires of those supreme gods.
With the threat of the Cursed One drawing near, the Chaos Gods had united to an unprecedented degree, contributing portions of their own power.
Hum.
The power of the Chaos Gods condensed together and smashed into a region of the Warp.
More terrifying still, such horrific Warp turbulence was somehow constrained within a single area.
It did not even alert the Holy Sun, and so no interference came.
Visible to the naked eye, that tangled mass of corrupt power was tearing apart the veil between reality and the higher heavens.
The vast evil energy jointly projected by the Chaos Gods was overwhelming, yet it carried a strangely furtive air.
Their actions were almost sneaky, full of nervous vigilance, as if terrified that these fluctuations might leak out and reveal the location of this region.
In truth, the Chaos Gods were secretly digging a tunnel between reality and the higher heavens, and they feared the Cursed One discovering what they were doing.
The Changer of Ways was even standing watch anxiously, observing the nearby Warp regions and passing warnings at any moment so that the other Chaos powers could halt their activity.
The Chaos Gods were extremely tense.
If the Cursed One discovered that they were building a passage toward the Solar System, he would certainly stop at nothing to destroy it. If that happened, all their previous effort might be wasted.
That would be a devastating loss.
Fortunately, the Chaos Gods had concealed the matter well. No disturbance spread outward, and the Warp remained as quiet as ever.
This was perhaps the greatest investment they had ever made into the material galaxy. The price they were paying was staggering.
That large temporary passage would allow their own powers, New Longlin Star, and the Primarchs and Chaos Legion forces within it to be projected into the Solar System.
That would secure victory.
Because of the massive outpouring of corrupt power, even their Chaos realms were beginning to shrink faintly from the loss of strength.
It was worth the cost.
The threat of the Cursed One would be removed, and the capital of humanity would fall entirely into the realm of Chaos.
They would establish their own territory within the galaxy, support a Dark Imperium led by Horus, and continue corrupting ever more humans.
If that objective were achieved, the human Imperium would split in two and descend into endless war.
And then these Chaos gods would be able to feed endlessly upon the galaxy's unceasing slaughter, disorder, plague, and suffering.
The price the Chaos Gods had paid was immense, but the harvest awaiting them would be far richer.
Several times the return, perhaps even more. What a delicious prospect!
At that thought, ugly smiles spread across the hideous faces of these gods of Chaos.
It was the smile of a scheme on the verge of success.
After an unknown length of time, a phantom passageway gradually appeared, and the blurred spherical outline of New Longlin Star emerged as well. Its surface was covered in dark machines belching endless smoke.
At the same time, within the crystal palace.
"Ah, such resolute will. A pity that even it cannot overcome fated destiny. Influence... more influence!"
The countless limbs formed from the Changer of Ways' iridescent figure moved through the void, setting one tiny thread after another in motion.
Every thread was connected to a phantom blue world, Terra. The web of fate shifted, slicing through one region after another.
Using those threads of fate, he divided the troop deployments along Terra's defensive lines and buried countless variables within them. When the time came, innumerable accidents would erupt all at once, granting Chaos even greater advantage.
That was what made Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways and the god of change and conspiracy, so terrifying. He influenced the fate and development of all things in silence and from the shadows. (wh40k.lexicanum.com)
Everything was proceeding according to plan!
Somewhere in the Warp.
A death world.
The land was crimson, and the sun scorched the earth like a ball of fire. Even the air seemed to writhe and boil from the heat.
The dry ground was strewn everywhere with the bones of Chaos creatures. Occasionally, twisted plants could be seen, with fruit growing from them.
Sizzle.
Murky blood splashed over the reddish plants, then ran down the leaves and dripped onto the burning earth, where it evaporated.
A tall human figure dressed in animal hides, unshaven and ragged, tore apart a Chaos creature and poured its blood over the plants as though watering them.
The plants greedily sucked in every bit of moisture and nourishment they could. Survival in a world like this was not easy.
The man licked his dry lips, plucked a fruit, and bit into it, savoring the sensation of juice bursting inside his mouth.
In such a twisted world, thirst and hunger were everywhere, impossible to relieve and yet impossible to die from.
But actions like this allowed him to recall what it had once felt like to eat, so that he would not forget that he was still human.
In a way, it was a form of resistance against the terrible corruption of this Warp turbulence zone.
"Damn it, this thing tastes amazing!"
Guilliman chewed on the bitter, rancid crimson fruit, while juice dripped down through his filthy beard.
Tears shimmered faintly in his eyes as he remembered scenes of attending banquets with his good brother Eden.
There had been sweet juices, mellow red wine, and delicious pastries and steaks.
This really was the definition of quenching thirst by imagining plums.
Guilliman pulled the bloodstained animal hide more tightly around himself, shielding his body from the omnipresent sunlight that seemed to come from nowhere.
His armor had long since been destroyed in endless battle.
He looked like a refugee.
A very miserable one.
Long ago, Guilliman had still been fighting shoulder to shoulder with Eden and the others in the Vostonia Sector, battling a daemonized Angron manipulated by the Chaos Gods. Angron is canonically a Primarch and a Daemon Primarch tied to Khorne. (wh40k.lexicanum.com)
But during that campaign, he had unfortunately stepped into a trap and become lost in this unknown whirlpool region.
And to make matters worse, this Ultramar Primarch and Lord of Ultramar had arrived within the domain of the red daemons, where wave after wave of daemons had come for him.
What followed was a long, endless war.
Countless red daemons had been slaughtered, until they fled in terror and hid in every corner, no longer daring to approach.
In the end, he had won and gone on surviving upon this hateful planet, searching for a way back to the Imperium.
"What a long stretch of time it's been..."
Dragging his heavy steps, Guilliman made his way toward a hide tent buried halfway in the ground nearby.
He had no idea how long he had been trapped on this hateful planet and within this Warp turbulence. Years? Decades? A century?
Time had all but lost meaning.
Life here was so harsh, so lonely, so full of danger that it would have driven any human mad.
Fortunately, he had found a way to keep living here. He had also found things to do.
He hunted Chaos creatures, carried back precious fluids, and cultivated strange plants he had discovered.
That sort of regular activity helped him resist the endless loneliness.
Beyond that, he regularly sent psychic messages into the Warp, broadcasting calls for help to humanity.
Guilliman crawled into the tent and made his way down into a shallow underground pit that radiated a faint coolness. There he lay down on his beast-hide bedding to recover his strength.
This was not the right time to stay outside for long. It consumed too much energy.
"Perhaps this isn't so bad after all. No administration, no crushing responsibilities, no war..."
Guilliman murmured to himself, and for a moment that thought rose in his heart. Maybe he should just lie down and rest forever.
But the very next instant, he snuffed out that absurd thought.
The Lord of Ultramar knew that if he accepted that kind of thinking, he would be lost in this Warp vortex forever.
He would never get out again.
"Do Father and my brothers miss me? Surely they haven't forgotten me, have they?"
A trace of longing crossed Guilliman's resolute face.
After so much solitude, and under the influence of old memories, this Primarch no longer bothered to hide his feelings.
He did not know whether, after losing him, the Imperium and his brothers had managed to defeat the Chaos-manipulated Angron.
Guilliman's memory was still fixed on the Battle of Vostonia, and he kept turning over possible changes in the course of the war.
He worried that the campaign to eliminate daemonized Angron might have failed.
According to Eden's worst projection, if that operation had failed, then the war in Vostonia would have bogged down into a grinding stalemate.
At the same time, under daemonized Angron's rampage, the Imperium might have been forced to spend more than a decade, perhaps even longer, pouring fresh troops into the region and launching one new offensive after another.
All to contain daemonized Angron and the spread of Chaos.
If that was really how things had gone, then surely Brother Eden and Lion and the others were even now anxiously waiting for him to return and keep fighting.
"Brothers, hold on. I'll make it back!"
Guilliman wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, his gaze firm beyond measure.
Wrapping himself more tightly in those special hides, he continued recovering his strength.
At the same time, outside the hide tent, a mirage from the vortex turbulence in the void reflected the scene of some faraway region.
Terrifying corrupt energies were secretly battering the veil between the higher heavens and reality.
And inside the tent, Guilliman wiped at the corners of his eyes once more, then curled up and turned over, completely unaware of any of it...
(End of Chapter)
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