A voyage of ninety Terran days was a daunting prospect for Emrys. It was his first time confined within the armored hull of a voidship for such a prolonged duration, and the claustrophobia of the Warp began to weigh on him.
Initially, he spent every waking hour on the command bridge. He paced the deck, obsessively monitoring the navigation arrays, questioning the Astropaths on the clarity of the Astronomican's light, and scrutinizing the Gellar Field's output. But his patience was short-lived.
Archmagos Carol eventually approached him, his mechanical voice calm. "Lord Emrys, the Excalibur possesses a robust Machine Spirit, and our Astropathic Choir is among the most disciplined in the sector. You need not burden yourself with the minutiae of the transit. Professional matters are best left to professionals."
The Emrys Dynasty had survived ten millennia of Warp travel; they were as familiar with the tides of the Empyrean as any Merchant Prince could be. Even though the Nachmund Corridor was now plagued by the turbulence of the Great Rift, the Archmagos was right. Emrys was the commander, not the navigator.
Relieved of his self-imposed duties, Emrys retreated to his private sanctum to organize his growing assets across the multiverse.
First, he checked on the "Transformers" world. The three foundries "donated" by Drayne had been successfully integrated into the production lines there.
Magos Galahad had already begun the slow process of establishing the Cult Mechanicus and the Ecclesiarchy among the Cybertronians. While turning giant machines into worshippers of the Emperor would take generations, the foundation was being laid.
A new generation of Cybertronian warriors had been sparked using the stellar energy sources Emrys had secured, though they were currently undergoing rigorous tactical training.
Interestingly, the entity known as Sentinel Prime had requested permission to lead a research expedition back to the ruins of their homeworld to "unearth ancient relics"—a task Emrys privately categorized as high-tech archeology.
Meanwhile, Optimus and Megatron had departed into the deep void together, searching for lost colonies. Their renewed bond was so close it reportedly made even Bumblebee uncomfortable.
Next, Emrys shifted his focus to the Resident Evil world. Wesker had provided a breakthrough that was both brilliant and terrifying.
Deep in Eastern Europe, Umbrella's tactical teams had tracked down the "Megamycete"—the ancient fungal root recorded in Emrys' data. When Mother Miranda refused an "invitation" to collaborate, Wesker had simply deployed his premier bio-hazard suppression unit.
The assault team—led by veterans like Leon Kennedy, Chris Redfield, and Jill Valentine—had systematically dismantled the village's defenses. They had brought the "Mold Lord" back to Umbrella's labs intact. Annette Birkin had since cross-bred the fungal spores with the T and G-Viruses, creating a horrific new biological weapon: a "Hive Terminal" fungus.
This fungal mat could absorb local biomass to grow exponentially, creating a "mold domain" hundreds of kilometers wide. Within this territory, the spores could spontaneously generate viral organisms capable of surviving in vacuum or extreme heat.
Emrys' skin crawled as he read the report. This is dangerously close to Nurgle's Garden, he thought. He made a mental note to never deploy this "fungal bomb" within the Imperium; the Inquisition—or worse, the Plague God himself—would take far too much interest in it.
More promising was Wesker's "Perfected T-Virus." This strain could stimulate human potential, extending lifespans and occasionally awakening latent telekinetic abilities without the risk of mutation. Wesker had already cultivated three hundred "Telekinetic Guards" who were absolutely loyal to the Emrys name.
Three hundred psychic-active warriors, Emrys mused. If I can secure Gene-Seed, I could build a private Chapter of Librarians.
Satisfied with the steady growth of his domains, Emrys returned his consciousness to his body on the Excalibur. He had just sat down when the familiar, ethereal pulse of the "Traveler System" resonated in his mind.
"Traveler, the barrier for Universe-99999 has stabilized. Entry into the Marvel Cinematic Universe is now possible. Do you wish to proceed?"
Emrys raised an eyebrow. The Marvel reality had been "undergoing changes" for quite some time, preventing his return. He wondered how many years had passed there while he was fighting on Vigilus.
"I have three months of Warp transit ahead of me," Emrys whispered. "I might as well see how my business ventures on Earth are faring."
He handed temporary control of his affairs to the ship's Machine Spirit and sent a brief vox-message to Archmagos Carol, stating he was entering a deep meditative trance and was not to be disturbed.
With a thought, he felt the familiar tug of the multiverse. He wondered how Tony Stark was doing. It was time to see if he could "extort" a few more technological miracles from his old friend.
"Traveler... activate."