In the meditation chamber of the Star Walker, the air was still, charged with a palpable energy. Julius Braveheart, seated in a lotus position with his eyes closed, channeled the titanic power of an ALPHA-level psyker. His goal was not destruction, but travel. To project the fine film of his consciousness across the boundaries of reality, to the most improbable of places: the Warp itself, and more precisely, the citadel the Seraphim had built there.
It was a Herculean effort, even for him. Traversing the Warp without physical protection was madness, but his power and the unique link he shared with the city of light offered him the possibility, for brief and perilous visits.
His astral form detached from his body, a silhouette of pure, bluish energy. Then, in a rending of perception, he was hurled into the chaos.
The onslaught was violent. The Immaterium screamed around him, an ocean of mad colors, twisted thoughts, and perverse desires. But Julius, protected by his own inner sun, cleaved through this storm. And suddenly, it appeared.
The City.
It was no longer merely under construction; it was complete. A metropolis of slender towers in white marble and gold, defying the immensity of the Warp. A blue and gold sun shone above, spreading a peaceful, ordered light that repelled the chaotic influences like a rock divides the waves. Rivers of silvery energy snaked between the buildings, and a vast golden halo rotated slowly in the sky, stabilizing the reality of this sanctuary.
His astral form floated above the wide thoroughfares, observing the incredible army the Seraphim had forged.
He saw the Maykr Slayers, the former mutants transformed into warrior angels, patrolling in perfect squadrons, their wings of light unfurled, their silver eyes scanning the chaotic horizon for the slightest threat.
He saw the Maykr Servitors, the reprogrammed daemons, toiling ceaselessly as a silent, efficient workforce, maintaining the city with mechanical precision.
It was a marvel. A fortress of reason and order at the very heart of absolute madness.
The Seraphim, sensing his presence, appeared beside him, his majestic white and gold form radiating power.
"It is finished," murmured Julius's astral form, impressed despite himself.
"The foundation is," corrected the Seraphim. "But a fortress needs more than walls and automaton guardians. It needs a soul. It needs defenders whose will is their sword and shield."
Julius understood immediately. "You want humans. Those who have resisted the Warp."
"Precisely," confirmed the Seraphim. "The cream of the crop. Those whose minds did not break, whose will is iron. They are rare, scattered in the wreckage of lost ships or on ravaged worlds. Their souls shine with a particular gleam in the Warp's currents. I detect them, but I cannot approach them directly. My essence is too... alien. They would mistake me for a daemon."
A plan formed in Julius's mind. "They need a symbol. A tangible hope. Not an angel, but a warrior. The Warrior."
He turned to the Seraphim, his astral essence pulsing with determination. "Create Valkyries. Not servants, but messengers, recruiters. Let them be in the image of the Doom Slayer, but more beautiful, more noble. Warrior maidens in plate armor, bearing lances and shields. Their sole mission will be to traverse the Warp, to find these strong souls, these humans who have held fast against hell, and offer them a choice: perish into oblivion, or rise again to become Guardians."
"Guardians?" questioned the Seraphim.
"Yes. They shall bear the name of the Einherjar," declared Julius, a glint of defiance in his eyes. "The heroes slain in battle from ancient myths, chosen to fight until the end of time. Those who struggled and fell against Chaos deserve a second chance. An eternity of battle, but for a just cause. Their own free will shall be preserved; they will choose to serve. Their armor will be akin to the Doom Slayer's, functional, terrifying, yet also magnificent, forged in the workshops of this city. They will be the Eternal Legion of Urdak."
The Seraphim inclined his head, the runes on his scepter glowing as he integrated this new directive.
"The Valkyries will find the heroes. The heroes will become the Einherjar. The city will have its soul," he concluded. "The order we are building here will finally have its human champions."
Julius felt his projection begin to weaken, the Warp demanding its due. As he was drawn back towards his body, one final thought came to him: he was not only building an empire in the materium. He was forging a legend in the Immaterium itself. And every hero saved from hell would be another nail in the coffin of the Dark Gods.