To the two Overlords before him, he extended a measured degree of respect.
It was a measured degree of respect, not reverence.
The Wise One and the Overlord of Peace were mentor and disciple. Their ideologies were closely aligned, and they hailed from the same lineage within the Rangdan species. Within the Council of Overlords, they essentially represented the "appeasement" faction.
Yet, this appeasement was not what it meant in the traditional sense.
To them, appeasement equated to infiltration. When making first contact with an alien species, they would project an initial friendliness, only to silently saturate, infect, and eventually annex that race from within. The Overlord of Peace was the ultimate executor of this policy—bringing peace to alien species, and with it, a quiet, imperceptible oblivion.
The sole reason Solas showed them any respect was because when he initially left the Rangdan, these two Overlords had argued fiercely in the Council, ultimately securing a starship to let him and his followers depart. Compared to the other Overlords, they were adept at identifying problems, reflecting on them, and employing calculated means to resolve them.
They possessed less savagery and a fraction more wisdom.
Hearing his question, the Wise One stated the purpose of their visit: "We will propose to the Council of Overlords that you be given command of the military to launch a grand campaign against the Human Imperium."
The particles on the tabletop shifted again, and a star system materialized.
The J-11 system was known by another name within the Rangdan Empire: the Corridor of Conquest.
The Overlord of Peace illuminated a star, its slick voice carrying a hint of embarrassment. "The Corridor of Conquest, our staging ground for the offensive against the Human Imperium, is currently locked in a bitter stalemate."
"The Iron Hands Legion launched a sudden assault, capturing the Pulsar System. They are continuously reinforcing it, forcing us into a prolonged war of attrition."
The embarrassment in its voice was difficult to mask. For a human Legion to push into the Corridor of Conquest and secure a foothold was, in itself, an absurdity.
"What?" Solas's expression changed instantly. Surprise flashed in his eyes, his voice a mix of shock and helplessness. "The Human Imperium actually managed to fight its way into the Corridor of Conquest?"
He had completely miscalculated.
The shock in Solas's tone held no exaggeration; it was entirely genuine. His brow furrowed tightly, betraying his deep anxiety.
Ever since he first left the Imperium and returned to the Rangdan, he had been drafting plans for an offensive against humanity. The Pulsar System was situated on the fringes of the Rangdan Empire, possessing highly stable Warp routes and a superb strategic location. As a vital choke point, the Pulsar System had caught his attention long ago, and the Supreme Overlord had personally christened it the Corridor of Conquest.
From that name alone, one could glimpse the Supreme Overlord's grand ambitions. It intended to use the Corridor of Conquest to launch a massive invasion into the Human Imperium and subjugate another powerful species. The Rangdan Empire had constructed star gates and forged fortress worlds within it, all to ensure the Corridor of Conquest remained firmly in their grasp.
Ferrus Manus.
The name of his brother surfaced in his mind. Solas knew that Ferrus's strategic capabilities were fully equal to his own; he would absolutely never relinquish the Corridor of Conquest.
Without a doubt, his Primarch brothers utilized intelligence far more efficiently than the Rangdan Empire did. The high degree of autonomy granted to each Legion made the Imperium's offensives both ferocious and swift. Although Solas had highlighted the Corridor of Conquest in his intelligence report, he truly had not expected that the Iron Hands would breach it in the opening stages of the war—a sector the Rangdan had meticulously fortified for years and pinned their highest hopes upon.
"The war was launched far too prematurely," the Wise One explained, shaking its massive head. "Many critical projects within the Corridor of Conquest were unfinished, allowing the human Legion to exploit the gap."
Solas pressed immediately, "Why deviate from the plan and launch the attack early?"
Since returning, he had lived in isolation within his small courtyard, never once asking why the Rangdan had accelerated their timeline against humanity.
"A demon." A Great Demon of Tzeentch flickered onto the tabletop, the Wise One's words dripping with absolute revulsion. "It manifested of its own accord, offering us an opportunity we had to seize."
"At that moment, the Warp entities had the Master of Mankind pinned down. It was indeed a prime opportunity, one we could not afford to pass up."
"But we did not expect the demonic legions to collapse so decisively, allowing the Human Imperium to extricate itself from that supernatural war."
Hearing the explanation, Solas nodded in understanding, his doubts clearing away. Capitalizing on a tactical opening was standard doctrine; it truly had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. During that period, while he was drifting through the void, he had also heard rumors that the Emperor had traveled to the Pale Stars for a classified operation.
If the demonic host could have withstood the pressure and kept the Emperor bound, then Blazkowicz, Sanguinius, and Lion El'Jonson would have been mired in that quagmire, unable to reinforce the material universe. But a defeat was a defeat.
Their supernatural allies had collapsed entirely, and the material universe naturally suffered the consequences. The premature exposure of the Rangdan became the price of that failure.
Solas nodded, not refusing the mandate to command the Rangdan forces. He asked seriously, "Do the other Overlords trust me?"
He was completely unattached now, with nothing left in his heart but an absolute obsession with vengeance.
"We will do everything in our power to convince them," the Wise One said with a degree of confidence. "The front lines have lost over ten thousand vessels of various classes, and human vermin are causing widespread devastation within our borders. The situation is far from optimistic."
"You need to hurry then," Solas said, calculating the timeline before addressing the two Overlords. "In three years' time, two worlds within the Corridor of Conquest will draw close to one another. That is when the true war arrives."
The Wise One and the Overlord of Peace exchanged glances, a heavy acknowledgment passing between them. Solas had not left his home and possessed no outside intelligence, yet based purely on a brief conversation, he had accurately pinpointed the exact catalyst of the upcoming war.
"Once the grand campaign begins, we must commit our absolute strength. Order the two legions within our borders to return and reinforce the campaign zone to alleviate the pressure on our rear."
"And drop any notions of rescuing the Defiant Overlord or hunting down Blazkowicz."
He pondered for a long moment before issuing a stern warning: "To cross the King of Warriors is to invite nothing but death."
The Wise One agreed completely, its massive head nodding in solemn agreement. "We are well aware of this. We will advise the Supreme Overlord accordingly."
It had concealed the specific details of the Defiant Overlord's capture from Solas. In the Malchias system, the Stargazers had witnessed everything unfolding within the Warp from the material dimension. A monstrous warp-fire had annihilated the entire fleet, and the Defiant Overlord had been captured alive only after exhausting his strength. The sheer power Blazkowicz Novick displayed had sent the demons fleeing in sheer panic.
"With that, we shall take our leave."
Their objective secured, the Wise One bid Solas farewell. "We must remain at the central hub; there are still many matters requiring our attention."
With those words, the two Overlords drifted out of the gazebo. Teleportation light flared across their bodies, and they vanished from the courtyard.
Once the guests had departed, Solas rose and left the gazebo. He lay down on a rocking chair, closing his eyes to rest and enjoy a rare moment of leisure. His thoughts drifted far away, though he wasn't formulating any tactics to use against his brothers.
Even without the prophecy shared by the Wise One, he had long known the Rangdan Empire was doomed; it was merely a question of how long they could endure. The Human Imperium had committed over half its military might, with numerous Primarchs taking the field. Solas knew better than anyone the terrifying depth of his brothers' military genius.
The Rangdan Empire had long wallowed in arrogance. Their innate gift for infection and control had made their rise far too easy; they had never weathered a true total war. Aside from the Wise One and the Overlord of Peace, the other Overlords were entirely blinded by their own pride. They possessed raw, brute power, but their strategic intellect was hollow and impoverished.
In contrast, a Primarch's martial instinct was encoded into their very genes by the Emperor, engineered solely for conquest and dominion.
Sometimes, Solas felt he had made a mistake. Against the Human Imperium and the Emperor, xenos could achieve nothing of significance. It would have been better to betray the Rangdan Empire from the start, remaining hidden within the Imperium to wait for its internal fractures to fester. When those contradictions became irreconcilable, he could have rallied a few of his brothers to march on Terra and exact his revenge upon the Master of Mankind.
But the choice had been made, and he felt a profound weariness.
The rocking chair creaked softly. Solas cherished this fleeting tranquility, growing so comfortable he nearly drifted off to sleep.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Deep within his pupils, a violent tremor erupted. He ground his teeth, letting out a low, ragged snarl: "The Emperor!"
Solas sensed a cataclysmic shift. A fundamental concept was being forcibly stripped from his very being.
Panicking, he raised his arm and spread his fingers. His flesh began to flicker and distort like static corruption in a holographic projection, rapidly losing its cohesive human form. Through a profound, esoteric connection, he realized that the Master of Mankind was using some unknown method to sever the conceptual definition of "humanity" from him.
That cruel father was striking his rebellious son from the racial record of mankind!
Solas tumbled from the rocking chair. His body ignited with a freezing, golden fire, his physical form beginning to disintegrate at the subatomic level. He was melting like a candle.
"Emperor! Emperor!" Solas's agonizing screams distorted. He could feel the warmth of his adoptive mother—a warmth that belonged entirely to humanity—slowly dissolving from his memories.
His body rolled violently across the floor. He cupped his hands together, desperately scooping up the bleeding concepts and trying to press them back onto his skin, fighting with everything he had to salvage what was being lost.
His breaking voice wept, crying out in a miserable, broken interrogation: "Why must you be so cruel?"
"You forced me to watch her die, and now you seek to tear away even this final memory?"
Perhaps his desperate cry found its mark, for the unraveling concept finally stabilized. Solas lay writhing on the ground, his form no longer bearing the slightest resemblance to a human being.
From the deepest recesses of his consciousness, a faint response echoed:
"You chose to consort with the xenos. Why do you covet such things now?"
Solas' body lay shattered, but this time he did not flee, nor did he fear. He hurled a final question back at his genetic sire:
"When I fell into the sea of stars... where were you?"