Daniel had just finished another round of the Tival offensive-defensive battle. As the results screen popped up, his stacks of "Endless Great Crusade" quietly climbed to level 15.
Just as he was preparing to queue for another match, pushing toward the threshold needed to redeem the Emperor's Blessing, the system popped up a striking golden notification:
[Version update content detected as ready.]
[Recommended: exit the game pod and complete the update for the full experience.]
"Hm? Another update?" Daniel was a little surprised. It had barely been any time since the last major update, which introduced the Ork and Necron factions for the Christmas event. This update frequency from Medici was almost suspiciously prolific...
He complied and exited the game pod. Half an hour later, the update finished, and he reconnected.
The login screen was as dark and solemn as ever, its Gothic lettering looming overhead. But beside the usual event entrance, there now stood a brand new icon, radiating an ancient golden glow, its design style utterly different from the current gritty Gothic aesthetic of the 40K era, far more stately and classical:
[The 30K Astartes Duel Tournament]
"30K?" Daniel murmured, his heart quickening slightly. As a deeply immersed player, he naturally understood the significance of this timeframe: the era before the Fall of the Imperium of Man, when the Emperor still walked among mortals, when the Primarchs had not yet vanished, when the Astartes Legions were still the Emperor's proudest blades.
That was the most glorious, and most tragic, dawn of the Imperium of Man.
"Old Devil Medici... he actually pushed the timeline back ten thousand years? Made an event set in the golden age of the Great Crusade?" A shiver ran through him, part excitement, part reverence.
This meant he might have the chance to witness, even if only virtually, those legendary Legions that existed only in background lore and scattered fragments from the "Archive Decryption Hall," and to see their glory before it had been ravaged by the fires of war.
Without hesitation, he selected the icon.
The screen shifted. Rather than dropping directly into matchmaking or an event scene, it opened into a solemn, stately virtual hall, its backdrop the slowly rotating, classically styled double-headed eagle emblem of the Imperium of Man. A line of gilded text materialized:
[Trial of Glory, Echo of the Ancients]
[This special instance event seeks to recreate the tradition of duels held in the final days of the Great Crusade, when the Astartes Legions still fought side by side under the Emperor's banner, staged to display valor and exchange skill in arms.]
Immediately after, a more personalized prompt box appeared:
[Notice: This '30K Astartes Duel Tournament' operates under a special invitation-only system.]
[The system will first conduct a deep scan and evaluation of your historical combat record, battlefield behavior patterns, fighting style, and potential traits.]
[Upon completion of the evaluation, the Astartes Legions still active on the 30K timeline will, based on the evaluation results, extend an invitation for 'temporary membership' status.]
[Accepting a Legion's invitation means you will participate in this duel tournament in the capacity of that Legion's new recruit.]
"So it's an 'assignment' system..." Daniel realized. This wasn't a matter of freely choosing a Legion; rather, the system would match players according to their assessed "qualifications."
This fit well with the setting of Warhammer 40k: one did not simply choose to become an Astartes. It required passing through rigorous screening and genetic compatibility testing.
"Scanning my behavioral patterns?"
He thought back over his past battles: the resilience and sacrifice he'd shown commanding the Krieg regiments, his absolute adherence to the Emperor's will after signing the Imperial Honor Contract, and the Imperial allegiance he had consistently upheld through countless brutal campaigns... "Which Legion will it assign me to? The Imperial Fists, under Dorn? The Ultramarines, under Guilliman? Or perhaps..."
Filled with curiosity and anticipation, he selected [Consent to Evaluation].
In an instant, the hall before him blazed with light! One after another, Legion emblems of wildly differing styles and magnificent bearing lit up in the void like brilliant stars, arranging themselves and slowly rotating around him.
Each emblem seemed to possess a life of its own, radiating a unique spiritual pressure and the weight of history. They seemed to be studying him, weighing the color of his soul and the resonance of his genetic makeup.
Daniel held his breath, waiting for his own personal "calling."
But just as all eighteen emblems reached the peak of their brightness, as though all were about to extend him an olive branch, in that very instant, everything changed.
Every single Legion emblem, without warning, in perfect unison, dimmed. Not extinguished, but as though suppressed and drawn inward by the presence of something of a far higher order, growing humble and silent.
Then, like a receding tide, they scattered outward in all directions, until nothing remained in the void but a pure, unbroken field of golden light.
That light did not come from any Legion emblem. It gathered instead out of nothingness, coalescing into a helmet of exquisitely ornate design, wrought to the very pinnacle of craftsmanship, radiating a supreme majesty and an ancient, timeworn presence.
The helmet hung suspended in silence, its design transcending mere instrument of war, more a piece of sacred art, and yet containing within it a power fit to eclipse the stars themselves.
A line of text appeared beneath it, simple, yet weighted with tremendous significance:
[Adeptus Custodes]
A more detailed information panel unfolded:
[Superhuman warriors personally designed and forged by the Emperor, existing long before the Astartes Project.]
[They stand at the pinnacle of individual combat power, the Emperor's most trusted personal guard, the final, unbreachable line of defense for the Imperial Palace and the Throne Room.]
[Their selection standards, augmentation procedures, weaponry, and loyalty all far exceed those of ordinary Space Marines. They serve one being, and one alone: the Master of Mankind.]
Daniel's heart pounded with excitement. The Custodes! Of all things, the Custodes! This was rarer, more glorious, than any Astartes Legion could ever be!
But the line of fine print that followed brought him up short:
[Special Notice: Choosing to accept temporary 'Custodes' status means you will be unable to enter the competitive rounds of the 'Astartes Duel Tournament' as a participant.]
[Your duty will instead be to serve as a Custodes guardian, stationed at the side of the 'Emperor's' throne, observing the entire event, maintaining order, and ensuring the Emperor's absolute safety.]
[You will still receive event participation rewards, and the quality of these rewards will be equal to that of the participants.]
Daniel: "..."
A great question mark seemed to hover, almost tangibly, over his character's head.
He wanted to compete! He wanted to step into the arena himself, to cross blades, even if only with other players roleplaying as them, against those legendary 30K-era Astartes! He wanted to experience the strength of a Legion warrior from the golden age!
But he had no choice in the matter.
All eighteen Legions had "withdrawn," leaving only the Custodes' invitation standing. This wasn't a system bug.
It was clearly a forced match based on his unique, one-of-a-kind gameplay data.
His identity as the holder of the Imperial Honor Contract, his standing as "a tool of the Emperor's war," and everything about his conduct that the system had ever recorded, all of it, in the end, pointed to this single outcome.
The system was telling him: your path, your place, did not lie within the arena. It lay beside the throne.
Daniel gave a bitter laugh. There was a touch of regret in his heart, but more than that, a strange sense of clarity, and weight.
Was this the "price" that came with the path he had chosen? To gain the highest honor, the privilege of standing close to a god, while losing the freedom to charge into the arena as an ordinary warrior.
He fell silent for a few seconds.
Then he raised his hand, and with the utmost solemnity, pointed toward the golden helmet suspended before him.
[Identity Confirmed: Temporary Custodes Guardian.]
[Transporting to: Holy Terra, the depths of the Imperial Palace, Duel Tournament Viewing Platform.]
Golden light swallowed him whole.