"Who dares trespass within my library?"
Magnus set down the ancient tome in his hands. His elegant red skin gleamed with a noble sheen under the ambient glow of Warp fire.
Engaged in his refined reading, he was thoroughly displeased by the intrusion.
And the intruder, it turned out, was someone singularly lacking in manners.
"Mortari—"
Before Magnus could finish speaking, a tiny figure charged straight at him. With a Primarch's lightning-fast reflexes, he could easily have sidestepped the attack and countered with his most devastating sorcery.
Yet, it was that very same Primarch reaction time that allowed him to see who was leaping toward him: New Dream.
Facing the little girl currently backed by the most formidable power in the entire galaxy, Magnus could hardly hurl a lethal spell her way.
Tzeentch had warned him explicitly not to lay a hand on New Dream.
*"The arrival of the main Tyranid Hive Fleet draws ever nearer. Fostering goodwill with little New Dream aligns perfectly with my grand scheme."*
Schemes, always schemes. Magnus preferred not to dwell further on Tzeentch's endless plots.
Redirecting his attention to New Dream, who was now clambering over him and playfully plucking at his feathers, he softened his tone.
"Little one, did you come here all alone?"
"Am I invisible to you?" Mortarion grumbled.
Faced with Mortarion's protest, Magnus replied dryly, "You are still a long way from being considered human."
"I brought her, Magnus," Yuki interjected, stepping forward. "New Dream needs to master the power of the Warp. It sounds ironic, but it is necessary."
"And what benefit do I derive from this?"
"The benefit is that when open war breaks out in the future, so long as your Legion hides in the Immaterium, you likely won't be eaten."
Magnus did not entirely buy Tzeentch's logic. Even if they cultivated a close bond with New Dream, she would ultimately remain an extension of her parents; the Tyranid Hive Mind would never permit such an entity to usurp the Great Devourer's absolute rule.
Furthermore, the Hive Mind's will was unyielding—attempting to sway her through human emotional attachments was pure fantasy.
Magnus considered refusing, yet a refusal might invite Tzeentch's displeasure and the Tyranid swarms' enduring wrath.
The Thousand Sons were already severely depleted; being targeted by the Hive Fleet again would spell complete ruin.
"My standards are exacting. Can she truly handle the rigor?" Magnus asked, trying to sound authoritative.
"New Dream's grip strength is remarkable," Yuki observed casually.
"Or rather, Magnus's plumage is exceptionally well-rooted," Mortarion added.
Neither paid the slightest mind to Magnus's stern tone; their attention remained fixed entirely on New Dream as she gleefully yanked on Magnus's wings.
With a gentle flick of his psychic power, Magnus lifted New Dream into the air, levitating her smoothly before him.
"Very well. We shall begin your lessons with calculus."
---
**Realspace.**
**Segmentum Solar.**
**The Imperial Palace, Terra.**
The heart, brain, and soul of the Imperium of Man.
Captain-General Trajann Valoris granted an audience to a group of unusual guests. They had entered Terra aboard a classified vessel without needing standard clearance; any lower- or mid-tier Imperial personnel who had come into contact with them were promptly turned into servitors to prevent any breach of secrecy.
Was such secrecy excessive?
For the Adeptus Custodes, the question required no debate. Any potential threat to the Emperor's safety had to be neutralized immediately and without exception. The Emperor's security was paramount.
The Custodes existed solely for Him.
"Have they closed the distance even further?"
The Tyranid bio-fleets—vile, abhorrent xenos carrying endless malice and ill omens. Once, the High Lords of Terra had dismissed them as mere peripheral pests causing minor disruptions on the galactic fringe. Now, however, these horrors had bypassed heavily fortified defense lines, attempting to penetrate the Segmentum Solar directly from beyond the galactic rim.
This was utterly unacceptable to both the Custodes and the Solar Auxilia.
The Imperium's finest and most loyal defenders would never permit such monstrosities to attack His devoted subjects before the Emperor's very eyes.
Trajann nodded, acknowledging the intelligence brought by the veterans of the Eyes of the Emperor.
It was these very battle-brothers—who, despite stepping down from active Custodian service, still sought to offer their strength to the Imperium—who had first conveyed the news of the approaching Tyranid swarms. Now, their lingering resolve proved invaluable once more.
"Deliver the following message to Guilliman: If the Tyranids seek a war of self-destruction against us, the Custodes and every defender of the Segmentum Solar will meet them to the bitter end. Both the Lord Commander of the Solar Guard and I will teach these monsters the meaning of death. He may crusade in the far reaches without worry for Terra's safety."
The Eyes of the Emperor voiced no objections. Though Captain-General Trajann Valoris was relatively young—at least in the eyes of these retired Custodes—he consistently demonstrated exceptional leadership.
"We shall convey your words, though not in person. The Primarch will understand."
Trajann wasted no further time; time was a luxury the Imperium lacked. At the onset of the Great Rift, the temporary extinguishing of the Astronomican had caused a momentary flicker of alarm even among the stoic Custodes—an unprecedented event in ten thousand years.
"My Lord... what will become of the Imperium's future?"
Trajann lingered outside the immense portals of the Eternity Gate. He dared not enter; whether the Emperor offered a response or remained silent, both outcomes carried a crushing weight he could scarcely bear.
*Thought slays. Ignorance is strength.* Such was the harsh reality of this era.
---
**Upon the Golden Throne...**
The long-silent Monarch of Mankind slowly opened His eyes—not His physical eyes, but those of His soul.
Bound to His decaying physical frame, He felt His flesh slowly rot and endlessly regenerate—a process devoid of hope.
Yet He could sense His power surging exponentially. Over the past ten millennia, the collective faith of humanity had fed His divine presence, though that power had been constrained by the veil between the Immaterium and realspace. Now, with the Great Rift shattering that boundary, His psychic presence had reached unprecedented proportions.
*Roboute Guilliman.*
*My last hope. My thirteenth son.*
*The weight of the entire Imperium rests upon your shoulders—*
He looked into the future.
A far greater shadow loomed, obscuring the galaxy's fate.
It was the true body of the Great Devourer—the primary Tyranid Hive Fleet.
The Warp shadow cast by these biological armadas had already enveloped the entire galaxy. In a matter of decades, or a few centuries at most, they would arrive in full force.
Unseeable. Even with supreme psychic foresight, He could not pierce the gloom, for the shadow in the Warp blotted out all vision.
Silently, He surveyed His Throne Room for the uncounted time.
The Custodians on guard remained mute and resolute as statues.
The Emperor closed His eyes, His mind drifting uncontrollably back to the distant past.
How glorious those days ten thousand years ago had been. He and His eighteen sons, despite their frictions, had striven together toward a grand ideal—an ideal He had once come so endlessly close to achieving.
Mankind. The Galaxy.
That dream now lay bound alongside the Emperor of Mankind, locked forever upon the Golden Throne.
"Sigh..."
Magnus had lost count of how many times he had sighed.
"I have reduced the instructional difficulty to such an extraordinary degree—how can you still fail to grasp it? If calculus is beyond you, what about analytic geometry? If analytic geometry won't work, then simple algebraic operations! How can you not even solve a fifth-degree equation?"
A look of fatigue completely unfitting her tender age washed over New Dream's face. She cast a pleading glance toward her father for help, but Yuki merely offered a cheerful "fighting!" gesture with his fist.
"Do not seek your father's aid," Magnus admonished softly, lowering the difficulty yet another notch. "You ought to grow stronger than your father ever was."
"Tell me," Yuki asked, turning to a nearby Thousand Sons sorcerer whose armor gleamed with exquisite luster, "is there truly a need to study advanced mathematics like this? I've never seen you lot run calculations like this mid-combat."
"To us, these processes have long become second nature," the sorcerer replied smoothly. "A mere flicker of thought yields the resolution."
"Could that information not simply be channeled directly into her mind via psychic transference?"
"Even if transmitted directly through psychic means, a proper cognitive foundation is still required to unlock it."
During his stay here, Yuki had befriended quite a few Thousand Sons sorcerers, who harbored an equal curiosity toward him.
Yuki had picked up a good deal of Warp sorcery from these scholars—prior to this, his application of Warp manipulation had been largely restricted to glorified shockwaves. In exchange, the Thousand Sons acquired some of Yuki's biological concepts, hoping these insights might aid their research into genetics and perhaps offer a breakthrough for the Rubric Curse.
Only little New Dream remained trapped in the grinding misery of studying mathematics.
Her heart yearned for someone to rescue her from this sea of suffering. Yet her father and those flying uncles in blue armor were having the time of their lives chatting, while the exceptionally large red-skinned uncle refused to step away. If only he would leave for a bit, she could slacker off.
"Do not let your mind wander," Magnus reminded her in a gentle tone, leaving New Dream zero room to slack off.
Ultimately, however, a savior appeared.
Following the trace Yuki had left behind, Yuno arrived at the scene, spotting New Dream frantically studying math at her desk.
"Mommy!"
A warm smile broke across Yuno's face. "New Dream, did you miss Mommy?"
"Mommy, I missed you so much!"
Then Yuno's tone shifted casually. "Where is your father?"
"Yuki is over there," Magnus answered, gestures pointing toward a side hall. "He appears to be engaging in an academic exchange with the sorcerers under my command."
Yuno nodded, patting New Dream's head affectionately. "Study hard, sweetie."
With that, she turned and left New Dream's side to hunt down Yuki.
Clutching her psychic pen, New Dream looked on the verge of tears. Magnus offered a timely reminder: "Focus."
"Waaah..."
Over on the other side, the sorcerers watched as Yuki was dragged away by a woman and pulled straight into his temporary quarters. One sorcerer remarked with a hint of awe, "She struck Yuki to the floor and dragged him away—she must be taking him back as a thrall!"
"That isn't funny," another deadpanned.
"Oh, it wasn't?"
What were Yuki and Yuno doing inside that room? Even if the Thousand Sons wished to pry, they lacked the means; a suffocating Shadow in the Warp completely blotted out any attempt at scrying.
A few hours later, however, Yuki and Yuno finally emerged, engaging in a serious conversation.
"How stand the fronts?" Yuki asked. "I presume the swarms are currently pressing toward Terra?"
"More or less, though I haven't deployed excessive reserves," Yuno replied. Harnessing her primordial power, she could direct the broad movements of bio-fleets across the entire galaxy.
"Why hold back?"
"Because an immediate breakthrough is improbable. Terra is guarded by the Adeptus Custodes—and who knows how many of them lie dormant beneath the palace. Currently, Terra's strategic resilience mirrors that of the Emperor himself: we cannot easily slay Him, nor can He easily eliminate us."
"Then why dispatch fleets toward the Segmentum Solar at all?"
"If we don't, the freed Solar Fleets would pose a far greater nuisance elsewhere."
Yuki sighed quietly. Games Workshop's narratives had always followed this rhythm: the Imperium faces absolute crisis, the Imperium stands on the brink of doom, the Imperium delivers its victory address.
If that same cycle repeated even after the arrival of the main Tyranid Hive Fleet, Yuki felt he might truly go mad.
"Still... I find myself quite liking things as they are now," Yuki murmured, a bashful smile gracing his face as he looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean... moments like this. Wandering the galaxy together, accompanied by New Dream, waging battle across the stars, watching the Four Gods and the Emperor burn with the desire to destroy us while remaining utterly powerless to do so. Isn't this a wonderful life?"
Yuno fell silent for a moment before asking softly, "Is that your wish, Yuki... or the collective desire of every Tyranid?"
Yuno paused, replying in a quiet murmur, "I do not know."
---
Following their tender moment, Yuno dropped by to check on New Dream.
The little girl was puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. Magnus wore a single-lens monocle paired with a tailored suit, looking every bit the strict academic professor.
"Very good. You have mastered basic arithmetic. Now, let us challenge calculus once more."
"Does New Dream possess talent?" Yuno asked.
"How could she not?" Magnus replied smoothly. "Even without connecting to the Tyranid synaptic network to draw upon your vast reservoir of knowledge, she remains an undeniable prodigy in her own right."
Hearing Magnus's praise, New Dream straightened her back proudly, a triumphant beam washing over her face.
Yuno nodded with satisfaction.
She had to admit that caring for New Dream full-time was exhausting, even with several sub-entities assisting her. Leaving Yuki and New Dream in the Warp to study had granted her a welcome breathing room in realspace.
Her sole regret was that Yuki had to stay behind to look after their daughter. One couldn't simply abandon a child alone in the Immaterium; doing so would make it entirely unsurprising if she grew up to stab her parents in the back later.
"Mommy, I don't want to study anymore," New Dream pouted.
"Magnus," Yuno suggested, "can we skip this phase and move directly to Warp sorcery? I don't expect her to master complex spells immediately—so long as she learns to comfortably control Warp energy, that will suffice."
Magnus closed his book, looking slightly taken aback. "Is that truly all you require? I was tailoring her curriculum to the standards of my Legion's High Sorcerers."
"Out of curiosity, how many years did you allocate for that plan?"
"A century or so. I was confident I could cultivate her to Ahriman's caliber, given her natural gifts."
"I hold no such grand expectations," Yuno replied lightly. "Unless New Dream expresses a personal desire for it, we shall keep it simple."
"I must say... I never imagined I would hold a conversation like this with the Great Devourer."
"Indeed. Keep it close to heart and remain grateful—such opportunities to converse with me are exceedingly rare."
Yuno prepared to depart, sharing a tender kiss with Yuki before stepping through the breach. Watching them, Magnus leaned down and whispered to New Dream, "Are the two of them always like this around you?"
New Dream nodded with absolute gravity. "Always."
"What an insufferably affectionate couple," Tzeentch's voice echoed softly from the surrounding void.
New Dream's lessons continued.
Within the Immaterium, the linear passage of time lacked any true definition. Even though Yuno attempted to synchronize the temporal flow of Yuki and New Dream's domain with that of realspace, maintaining a precise rate proved elusive.
Yet for studying Warp sorcery, this time-dilation was a blessing in disguise.
Tzeentch occasionally manifested in person to offer guidance and exchange words with Yuki, and today was no exception.
"Yuki, how are you finding the atmosphere?" Tzeentch purred smoothly. "Though this domain does not belong to my immediate realm, it bears my distinct aesthetic, wouldn't you say?"
They stood upon Magnus's Planet of the Sorcerers—a world constructed at an uncertain epoch, distinct from the one forged during the Horus Heresy.
"Yuki, tell me... would you be interested in viewing that trespassing Necron fleet?"
"Have you lot still not eliminated them?" Yuki asked, brow furrowing slightly.
He recalled hearing about a massive Necron fleet forcing its way into the Warp back when he first entered the Immaterium. While such an intrusion was exceedingly rare, it hardly seemed like a apocalyptic crisis. Given a modest amount of time, the unnatural environment of the Immaterium should have consumed them entirely.
"Those mechanical creatures are quite extraordinary," Tzeentch conceded softly. "I must admit, if their primary directive were not escape, but rather a suicidal offensive against us, one of our pantheon might well have suffered severe trauma."
Yuki knew he had to factor in the very real possibility that Tzeentch was simply spinning tales for his own amusement, for the claim bordered on the absurd.
In realspace, the Necrons could unleash their mind-bending, techno-sorcerous machinery to full effect, making a dire threat to Chaos forces plausible. But here in the Warp, where conventional physics and natural laws held zero dominion—where even Yuki and New Dream relied on the Shadow in the Warp merely to maintain a coherent physical form—how could a Necron fleet pose such a catastrophic hazard to the Chaos Gods?
It was hard not to suspect Tzeentch of fabricating a tale simply to maneuver Yuki to a specific coordinate.
"I merely offer the suggestion," Tzeentch added lightly before fading away. "That armada is currently approaching this sub-sector. Should you wish to observe, you may bring Magnus along—consider it a rare field trip for the child."
With those words, the Changer of Ways vanished into thin air.
Yuki turned to look at New Dream, whose eyes were practically glowing with innocent curiosity.
"Well, that settles it then," Yuki sighed softly.
Magnus assembled his grand council of Thousand Sons sorcerers, and with Yuki carrying New Dream, the contingent departed for the spatial junction the Necron armada was projected to intersect.
It was Yuki's very first time laying eyes on so many Thousand Sons gathered in one place—nearly ten thousand Rubric Marines marched in silent formation. These were the fallen of the Legion from the Great Crusade onward, those who had failed to survive the Rubric of Ahriman.
"Replenishing our ranks is an agonizing endeavor," Magnus spoke, his voice heavy with genuine, lingering sorrow. "For the Thousand Sons, the Rubric Curse remains an insurmountable wall. Out of a million prospective initiates, perhaps ten might reach the final threshold... yet in the end, not a single one may survive intact."
He gestured toward the silent ranks of shimmering blue armor.
"Look at them. Most of these Rubric Marines never truly lived a single day as a complete Legionnaire of the Thousand Sons."
As Magnus lamented, a harsh, discordant clash echoed from the ranks of his sorcerers. The Terminators of the Scarab Occult had already raised their weapons, missile launchers locking onto a lone figure approaching from the mist.
"Ahriman... You are not welcome here."
Ahzek Ahriman. Former Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons.
Creator of the Rubric, shatterer of the XV Legion—a warrior who had accomplished what even Leman Russ and the Space Wolves had failed to bring to completion.
After he cast that fateful spell that turned his battle-brothers into hollow suits of dust, Magnus had formally banished him, severing all ties.
"Silence your weapons," Magnus commanded, raising a single hand to check his sons' anger.
He turned his eye upon the exile. "You have returned, Ahriman."
"I am merely passing through, Primarch," Ahriman replied, his tone low and resonant behind his mask. "I heard word of the intruder's approach. I thought... perhaps these hollow shells might prove useful against them."
"You seek to make amends? Do you truly believe it is that simple?" Magnus's voice hardened. "Do you comprehend the sheer scale of ruin you wrought? I told you eons ago—until your transgression is fully rectified, your exile shall never end."
"I am aware..." Ahriman murmured softly.
His face remained concealed beneath his horned helm, but his voice carried an undeniable, profound grief.
"Alright, that's enough arguing," Yuki interjected, stepping between them. "There's a child present. Ahriman, come stand over here—consider it my personal invitation."
Magnus cast a glance at Yuki, but held his tongue.
The surrounding Thousand Sons sorcerers lowered their weapons as well. So long as Ahriman did not claim the mantle of a Thousand Sons Legionnaire before them, treating him merely as an favored champion of Tzeentch was an acceptable compromise. Even Magnus could tolerate his presence on a personal level under Yuki's invitation.
"My thanks," Ahriman said softly, stepping toward Yuki.
Sitting atop Yuki's shoulder, New Dream reached out with innocent curiosity, her tiny hand brushing against the sharp horns of Ahriman's helm.
"This helmet looks super cool!" she chirped.
Ahriman's posture softened slightly. "I hold that opinion as well, little one."
"Thank you for the praise."
The Thousand Sons sorcerers maintained a cold distance from Ahriman as they began weaving a massive ritual across the void. Magnus's strategy involved constructing a cosmic sorcerous array the size of an entire planet, capable of engulfing the entire sub-sector. If they could harness this array to obliterate the invading Necron fleet in a single stroke, it would be a triumph of immense proportions.
During his prior engagement with the Silent King, Magnus had personally witnessed the terrifying reality of Necron technology. Controlling time, warping space, manipulating realspace physical laws at whim—phenomena that required the Thousand Sons to channel vast psychic reserves were accomplished by cold machines through pure, unyielding science.
Magnus sought to capture a portion of those mechanical artifacts. With such technology in hand, the Thousand Sons might finally secure a permanent foothold within the physical galaxy.
"Care for a cup?"
Ahriman's side of the platform was quiet. In truth, he had not come here hunting Necrons.
"You look as though you've been through hell," Yuki noted, accepting the goblet Ahriman offered.
He handed a smaller cup to New Dream, who sniffed it curiously before realizing it was merely fresh grape juice. A look of clear disappointment washed over her tiny face.
Ignoring her pout, Ahriman turned to Yuki, his voice dropping to a quiet rumble.
"Once... I cornered Yvraine within the Webway."
Yuki listened quietly, offering a nod of understanding.
"She told me she possessed the power to restore my battle-brothers," Ahriman continued, his voice trembling faintly. "Gods... you cannot imagine it... She actually did it. They returned to life. They stood around me, shielding me just as they had ten thousand years ago. They called my name... asking what had transpired, why we were facing the Aeldari..."
Ahriman drained his goblet of psychic-infused wine in a single draft, deliberately loosening his mental discipline to prevent his mind from shattering under the weight of that memory.
"I saw it with my own eyes. It is possible. But... that woman cast them into the Warp. I must find them, Yuki... yet I cannot locate their souls."
"So..." Yuki asked gently, "what do you intend to do?"
"I will hunt down the Ynnari," Ahriman declared, his eyes burning behind his helm. "The Aeldari hold the key to saving the Thousand Sons. For that outcome, I am prepared to pay any price imaginable."
He locked eyes with Yuki.
"And the Tyranid Hive Fleet represents the greatest leverage in this universe. You once mentioned your desire to cultivate and preserve organic life... I am willing to align myself with you."
It was an unexpected offer. Yuki glanced around, noting that the Thousand Sons sorcerers were fully absorbed in their ritual and oblivious to the conversation.
"Ahriman," Yuki smiled faintly, "that sounds like an exceptional arrangement."
Yuki considered reminding Ahriman that even if the Rubric Marines were restored, they could likely never leave the Webway without risking regression, but seeing the man's fragile mental state, he refrained from dampening his hope.
"I will keep an eye out for news regarding the Aeldari and the Ynnari for you."
"Then allow me to offer something worthy of our accord in return," Ahriman replied, stepping onto his Disc of Tzeentch with a quiet, solemn dignity.
"And what might that be?"
"The Rubric Marines."
"Rubric Marines?"
Ahriman gave a subtle nod.
"I will bestow upon you a full company of Rubric Marines, including ten formidable Scarab Occult Terminators."
The corner of Yuki's mouth twitched into a faint, amused smile.
"I see. It appears that even after Magnus banished you, you haven't entirely cast aside your identity as a Thousand Son."
"My father exiled me, yet I remain a warrior of the Thousand Sons forever," Ahriman replied, his tone low and resonant behind his helm. "Though to speak plainly, this matter must remain hidden from my brothers. Do you hear me, little New Dream? Do not speak of this to that red-skinned giant."
New Dream pouted, her voice muffled as she leaned on Yuki's shoulder. "Daddy and Horned-Helm Uncle are making secret trades..."
Yuki let out a soft chuckle, draining the last drop of grape juice from his goblet.
"Speaking of which, it seems you aren't the only one to have departed the Legion, are you?"
"Indeed, I am not," Ahriman conceded. "Though I seem to be the only one banished in quite so grand a fashion."
"What of Iskandar Khayon?"
"Khayon?"
The face of that sorcerer flickered in Ahriman's mind.
"That fellow felt more as though he simply ran off on his own accord. Magnus never issued an official decree of exile against him."
"Did rumors not claim he forced Magnus to drop to his knees?"
An audible trace of dry mockery crept into Ahriman's voice.
"That stands as the finest joke I have heard in centuries. Who? Khayon? He merely leaned upon the formidable prestige of Abaddon, Warmaster of the Black Legion—and Abaddon, in turn, relied on his standing as the Champion of the Four. A Primarch does not kneel to them; that claim is merely a glorified narrative masking submission to the Dark Gods' collective majesty."
In truth, Yuki rather appreciated Khayon's unique visual design, finding a distinct, dark aesthetic in it.
"Furthermore, regarding Khayon..." Ahriman continued, a faint scoff escaping his helm, "I initially assumed that after abandoning our Legion, he would seek out a far more intriguing master. Yet having left Magnus, he ended up throwing his lot in with Abaddon."
Abaddon...
Yuki found it hard to suppress a smirk himself. As the most famous figure in Warhammer lore, the Imperium's top adversary, the ultimate, most mighty, and most imposing Chaos Warmaster...
For Khayon to align with such a figure could certainly be considered a bright career prospect.
"I wonder how Khayon fares these days," Yuki mused. "Word of him vanished entirely after the Thirteenth Black Crusade."
"Ah, you ask of him?" Yuki replied casually. "Currently, Khayon should be languishing inside the black cells beneath the Imperial Palace on Terra, strictly guarded by a contingent of Black Corn."
"Black Corn?"
"The black-armored Custodes. The Shadowkeepers."
"Khayon was captured?" Ahriman asked, surprised.
"Strictly speaking, he surrendered himself voluntarily."
Though Ahriman's visage remained hidden behind his demonic helm, Yuki could feel the sheer, blank bewilderment emanating from him.
"Has he lost his mind?"
"Abaddon sent him there," Yuki shrugged. "I can hardly fathom the man's rationale either."
Ahriman's tone took on a darker, irritated edge.
"Abaddon, much like his father, possesses a habit of orchestrating pointlessly convoluted schemes. Impossible to comprehend—it was true ten thousand years ago, and it remains true today."
He paused, letting out a low sigh.
"Khayon... that fellow was decent enough in his own right, possessing commendable academic achievements. For him to meet such an end is quite something."
Ahriman seemed to ponder something further before turning his masked face toward Yuki.
"And what of Khayon's sister?"
"She should be aboard the *Vengeful Spirit* currently."
Ahriman failed to hold back, letting loose a strange, dry chuckle. He and Yuki dropped the topic, directing their collective focus toward the churning depths of the Immaterium.
It had arrived.
Something massive was drawing near.
"Are you kidding me?"
Yuki stared at the dense, swarming host of starships surrounding them. Looking out toward the horizon of the Warp, the fleet resembled an endless, suffocating storm cloud.
It was a staggering sight.
"Is this a joke? Why do I feel as though the physical laws of the Warp have actually... stabilized?"
"You—"
Yuki paid little mind to the metaphysical shift; his eyes remained fixed on the colossal Necron fleet. *Dammit, what on earth is this?* The sheer scale appeared even more vast than his own Tyranid bio-fleets. How could a mechanical fleet of this magnitude exist, and how had it breached the Immaterium?
"Look at the giant ships!" New Dream chirped, reaching out her tiny hands as if to catch them.
Yuki instantly sensed the danger. This Necron fleet was by no means something one could safely approach.
"Come, New Dream. It isn't safe here," Yuki warned, pulling her behind his shoulder to shield her from the hazardous battlefield.
"I advise against pulling back at this juncture," Ahriman interjected firmly. "The Immaterium's currents are shifting rapidly. Should you be swept into a Warp storm or a dimensional rupture, the consequences would be dire."
Meanwhile, Magnus and the Thousand Sons sorcerers had already brought their grand ritual array to life.
Yet the sheer scale of events unfolding in the Warp clearly exceeded Magnus's original calculations.
Specifically, the sheer volume of the Necron armada far outstripped his initial projections.
"This resembles nothing so much as the calculation errors he made back when dealing with us," Ahriman scoffed quietly. "When will Magnus ever grasp the fundamental significance of numerical disparity?"
"Ugh."
Watching the Necron warships drift steadily closer, Ahriman tapped his staff lightly against the floor, instantly projecting a dense, shimmering psychic barrier around their immediate platform.
"Exercise caution," Ahriman warned. "Those particle beams are no ordinary armaments."
"I hardly need you to tell me that," Yuki muttered.
Swarms of aircraft poured from the Necron vessels like a disturbed hive. These were Necron fighter craft, surging forward with a clear objective: targeting the Thousand Sons attempting to disrupt their advance.
Daemons of Tzeentch had joined the fray as well, charging forward with reckless abandon in vast, uncounted numbers. Alongside them fought unaligned Warp entities, many possessing no specific tactical goal beyond a primal curiosity to test the resilience of these metallic foes.
The leading several hundred Necron vessels were temporarily snared by the Thousand Sons' sorcerous bindings, but reinforcement waves behind them pushed relentlessly forward. Magnus stood at the vanguard, leading his sorcerers in casting a continuous barrage of high-tier Warp spells.
Yet the very fabric of the Immaterium was undergoing a subtle, unnatural transformation.
"Can Blackstone truly function within the Warp itself?"
"Necron technology is defined by such absurdities," Ahriman noted dryly. "Nothing they achieve surprises me anymore."
"Well, it appears they've spotted us."
Yuki shifted smoothly into a combat stance, his outer chitinous armor hardening into dense, reinforced plates.
"New Dream, stay hidden behind me."
The Necron warships loomed closer.
A contingent of Necron constructs initiated phase-teleport protocols, materializing directly onto their platform. These constructs possessed towering frames, their heavy armor designating them as Lychguard and Immortals.
Yet compared to standard Necron units Yuki had encountered before, these constructs were markedly larger and more imposing.
"These Necrons look far from ordinary."
"To dare engage us in melee combat in a domain like this—how bold," Magnus boomed, his voice echoing across the void.
Following their Primarch's roar, the Thousand Sons sorcerers discarded their usual scholarly poise, surging forward with savage fury alongside ranks of Rubric Marines to intercept the Necrons attempting to shatter the ritual array.
A handful of Necron units materialized near Yuki and Ahriman's position as well, though the enemy's primary focus lay elsewhere—these were merely a few Ophydian Destroyers.
"Look at the huge robots!"
"New Dream, pull your head back!"
Listening to the violent hum of phase blades slicing through the air, Yuki felt a genuine surge of threat.
Magnus could not fathom why these Necrons possessed such a fierce desire for total aggression.
The towering Necron armada was closing in fast.
He had certainly never anticipated engaging at least four figures' worth of Necron capital ships in a head-on clash within this realm. His own Thousand Sons Legion did not even possess four digits' worth of active warships at their disposal!
Magnus brought his staff down, impaling a Necron warrior through its chassis. The mechanical construct made no attempt to retreat, immediately triggering its phase protocols.
Yet no trace of quantum displacement occurred. The contained energy inside its frame exploded instantly.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A rapid succession of detonations echoed like crackling thunder, followed by hundreds of small boarding skiffs hurtling directly toward the Thousand Sons' positions.
"Magnus! Those are suicide vessels—intercept them!"
Magnus raised his hand, channeling the Warp energy generated by his ritual array to seize the incoming kamikaze fleet. Yet a fraction of the craft slipped past his grip, diving directly toward their platform.
Ahriman clicked his tongue in irritation; the situation was turning into a major headache.
With no other choice, he hovered atop his Disc of Tzeentch, chanting a swift incantation to manipulate the Warp's flow and trap the remaining suicide vessels in temporal stasis.
"Yuki, I'm handing this line to you! A dangerous entity is approaching at incredible speed!"
Yuki did not immediately grasp Ahriman's warning, but within seconds, the reality became brutally clear.
A surge of terrifying energy erupted nearby. Violent, crackling ion discharge was actually ionizing the metaphysical fabric of the Immaterium, sweeping forward as a beam of pure, searing plasma.
This was an attack that no standard psychic shield could hold against—certainly not the psychic barrier he could manifest in his current state.
Yet New Dream was standing right behind him. Yuki had no reason, and no right, to step back.
Unleashing his full psychic reservoir, he forced the beam to a standstill, holding the line for roughly three seconds.
Three seconds.
His psychic shield shattered into spark fragments, but the surging tides of the Warp rose once more, swallowing the searing beam within their cold, unyielding currents.
As the smoke cleared, Yuki locked eyes with the attacker.
A Necron Cryptek holding a grand plasmacaster staff. From the posture and refined chassis lines, it was distinctly recognizable as a female Cryptek.
"Dammit... what kind of monster is this?"
Yuki felt her gaze lock onto him—a stare dripping with infinite disgust and cold detachment. It felt thoroughly vile.
This construct was fundamentally different from any Necron he had faced before.
Fighting inside the Immaterium was already disadvantageous for Yuki compared to realspace, severely limiting his combat output. Looking at the Canoptek guard constructs shielding the Plasmancer, Yuki lacked the confidence to secure a quick victory.
Unexpectedly, the Plasmancer halted her advance.
She observed Yuki, her synthetic voice ringing with a cold query:
"Why does an organic specimen exist inside the Immaterium?"
"How curious."
Yuki scoffed softly. "Honestly, seeing a Necron speak such fluent High Gothic is far more curious."
The Cryptek offered a formal designation: "Plasmancer Dosanya of the Nektamon Dynasty, present here to secure the liberation of my Overlord's fleet. Organic... carry your Thousand Sons away before you are reduced to ash by my power."
"Uh, I'm not actually the leader of these Thousand Sons," Yuki replied casually. "I can't make that call."
Dosanya displayed a faint flicker of artificial disappointment.
"I see... Merely another mortal dragged into the Immaterium, much like those tedious humans."
The plasmacaster staff in her grip crackled with blinding blue arcs.
"In that case, you had best retreat."
Recognizing the devastating destructive power charging up in her weapon, Yuki initiated a rapid backward sprint.
Pointing at the massive vessels looming above, New Dream chirped, "Daddy, those big ships are feeding power to that big sister!"
"Why are you calling her 'big sister' of all things?" Yuki grumbled as he retreated.
Both Ahriman and Magnus noticed the energy transfer. Their spellcasting shifted instantaneously, both Arch-Sorcerers acting in perfect, silent coordination as they deployed complementary incantations.
Ahriman expanded a massive psychic barrier, while Magnus constructed a colossal teleportation array encompassing every Thousand Sons sorcerer on the field.
After siphoning the energy reserves of several capital ships, Dosanya unleashed a beam of concentrated plasma. Though slender in appearance, the beam cleaved through Ahriman's barrier almost instantaneously.
By then, however, Magnus's teleportation array had already completed its sequence.
The Thousand Sons vanished from the sector, leaving the grand array that held the Necron warships behind. Dosanya's high-energy beam struck the abandoned structure, shattering the binding array to pieces.
Surveying her surroundings, Dosanya noted the endless waves of Warp entities and daemons gathering once more.
"The pathway is cleared, My Lord. We may proceed at your command."
"Scuttle the warships that have exhausted their power cores. Use their detonations as thermal concealment for our retreat."
"As you command."
Dosanya triggered the self-destruct protocols for the vessels that had drained their energy reserves to fuel her attack. Without their power output, she would not have been able to unleash a strike of such magnitude.
For the Dynasty to escape the Immaterium, such sacrifices were entirely necessary.
Holding that cold calculation in mind, Dosanya engaged her phase protocols.
"That was thoroughly humiliating," Yuki grumbled.
He had just been teleported back alongside Ahriman, ensuring New Dream was safely tucked behind him.
"What is with those Necrons? How did they construct so many capital ships? Is it possible they don't belong to a single Dynasty?"
"Unlikely," Ahriman replied, adjusting his robes. "Judging by numerical volume alone, that fleet exceeds the combined naval strength of every known Necron Dynasty in the galaxy."
Yuki sighed, shaking his head. "Don't tell me these guys crossed over from an alternate universe or something."
Ahriman scoffed, "How could such a thing be possible?"
Magnus regrouped with his sorcerers, tallying the casualties from the engagement. Yuki turned to him and teased, "Hey Magnus, didn't you lead a massive force to intercept Guilliman on the Moon back then? Were your losses worse than this?"
"No," Magnus replied dryly. "The losses on the Moon were considerably worse."
Naturally so—Magnus had led his sorcerers directly to Terra's doorstep, clashing with the Silent Sisters, the Adeptus Custodes, Guilliman, and the Ultramarines, nearly wiping out the Legion's entire ten-thousand-year reserve in one go.
"Is it really fine to just let them pass?" Yuki asked.
"Tzeentch's directive was merely to delay their advance," Magnus explained. "There were no secondary objectives. That fleet is constantly searching for a way out of the Immaterium. No matter how vast their numbers may be, within the infinite depths of the Warp, their resources will inevitably run dry."
"That sounds exceptionally cold," Yuki noted.
The only individual on the platform displaying genuine cheer was New Dream.
"Those big robots were so cool just now!" she beamed.
Magnus looked down at her with a gentle expression. "Cool? The sorcery I am about to teach you will be far cooler."
New Dream instantly dropped her smile, pouting: "Aww... I don't wanna study anymore."
Ahriman lingered within Magnus's sphere of influence for a little longer. During this time, not a single Thousand Sons sorcerer showed him any kindness.
This was only natural. Almost every surviving Thousand Sons sorcerer had endured a trial of life and death—a trial brought about by Ahriman's Rubric spell. Those who could withstand it survived to become powerful sorcerers; those who couldn't were reduced to near-immortal Rubric Marines, empty suits of dust.
Ahriman understood all too well how awkward his presence was. In the end, he simply informed Yuki of his departure.
"Yuki, I am willing to lend you my aid, but you must offer me hope in return—at least a glimmer of hope that I may restore flesh and blood to my brothers. I have already entrusted you with a contingent of Rubric Marines as a gesture of good faith. Now, the next step is yours."
"Ahriman, I cannot guarantee a clear answer on this."
"No, there will be one. The Rubric can be undone. I have spent ten thousand years searching for this possibility, and now that possibility has manifested around me."
"I can only say I will do my absolute best."
Ahriman said nothing further. He cast his gaze toward the high tower where Magnus resided, inside of which little New Dream was currently enduring the grueling rigors of sorcerous training.
"Give New Dream my regards. It has been a very long time since I last saw a child like her."
"To be frank, a child backed by forces no one dares cross is always bound to be cherished," Yuki remarked.
Ahriman let out a soft, dry chuckle.
"Perhaps in the future, I too might guide her studies. Though my overall mastery of Warp sorcery may not equal Magnus's, I still retain certain distinct advantages within my own specialties."
"We shall see about that later. Once her studies in the Warp are complete, we might very well end up as enemies—at least where your father is concerned."
"I am no longer part of the Thousand Sons Legion, yet I remain a Son of Prospero. I only hope you give us a reason to yield beforehand."
With those final words, Ahriman departed the realm.
Yuki watched his figure fade into the distance, letting out a quiet sigh.
To think it would end like this. However, that suddenly materialized Necron Dynasty certainly warranted a bit of attention.
The Nektamon Dynasty.
He had never heard of this Dynasty before—it had never appeared in standard Warhammer lore. Could it be, much like Hopper, an anomaly unique to this reality?
Yet for a hidden faction, wasn't this Dynasty's fleet scale terrifyingly overpowered?
Shortly after, Yuno arrived once more to visit. Upon learning that Yuki and New Dream had just been through such a chaotic engagement, she voiced mild dissatisfaction.
"You could have at least given me a heads-up about something like that."
"I didn't expect that Necron Dynasty to be on such a massive scale either," Yuki explained, before sharing the name with her. "Could you ask the Void Dragon if he remembers anything about the Nektamon Dynasty?"
Yuno nodded in agreement.
Yuki then presented his newest acquisition, courtesy of Ahriman: a full company of Rubric Marines, accompanied by ten Scarab Occult Terminators.
Gazing upon these empty automations, an instinctive look of mild distaste flickered across Yuno's face.
"Dammit... I still remember their annoying attack sequences all too clearly."
Back in Space Marine 2, a clustered squad of these Thousand Sons possessed absurd combat output—a single combo chain from those Scarab Occult Terminators could easily beat a warrior to death on the spot.
"Well, now they count as part of our forces," Yuki smiled. "Ahriman handed these Thousand Sons over to show his sincerity."
"And so?"
"I can't exactly keep them parading around right in front of Magnus. I'm handing them over to you for now—take them back to realspace. See if you can research a way to resolve the Rubric Curse bound to them."
"Is this part of your grand scheme?"
Their minds were linked as one, making the question entirely redundant, yet Yuno asked it anyway in a playful, teasing tone. The flirtatious lilt in her voice prompted Yuki to lean in and kiss her gently.
"Children shouldn't be watching this."
Magnus promptly squatted down, shielding New Dream's eyes with his massive hand.
The couple had been so absorbed in the moment that they hadn't even noticed Magnus and New Dream approaching, leading straight to this profoundly awkward scene.
Realspace.
Yuno returned to her bioship, bringing the Rubric Marines with her. Her operations in realspace were proceeding smoothly; hundreds of star systems had been stripped completely bare, while the Imperium of Man remained locked in a brutal struggle against the Leviathan bio-fleets pressing toward Terra.
Roboute Guilliman was likely turning his attention toward resolving the Pariah Nexus crisis, while the Lion had already returned to the galactic stage.
Unknowingly, nearly a century had drifted by since the opening of the Great Rift.
Existing within the Immaterium, Yuki and New Dream held no normal perception of time's passage. And back in realspace without Yuki and New Dream by her side, Yuno had reverted to her ancient, primordial state, losing all conventional sense of time as well.
To her, those long decades felt almost instantaneous.
"Mmh... once Yuki comes out, he'll definitely have to compensate me properly for all these years of solitude."
Muttering a rather terrifying prospect under her breath, Yuno placed the acquired Rubric Marines inside a vast, open bio-hold, using her own psychic power to sustain their static existence.
"Mag'ladroth? I have something to ask you."
The Void Dragon shard had undergone visible physical mutations over time. Vein-like crimson patterns laced his metallic form, and bio-chitin armor resembling Tyranid plating had sprouted across his wings.
He materialized before Yuno, his gaze immediately falling upon the silent suits of armor.
"These pathetic inorganic husks... appear to be the tragic product of some sorcerous curse?"
"Ignore them," Yuno dismissed coldly. "I have a question for you. The Nektamon Dynasty—does that name ring a bell?"
The Void Dragon paused, reflecting deeply. The name seemed to unearth a few rather unpleasant memories from the depths of his long existence.
After a moment, he offered his answer.
"The Nektamon Dynasty... if I recall correctly, they were a fairly formidable Dynasty among the Necrontyr. However, they maintained a low profile, keeping a minimal presence during major galactic events. In my memory, they were heavily involved in the shattered downfall of several C'tan."
"Could they possibly possess tens of thousands of capital ships?"
"Tens of thousands?" The Void Dragon scoffed softly. "During the War in Heaven, such a count might have been plausible. But in this current era? Virtually impossible. If they truly commanded a armada of that scale today, they could sweep the entire galaxy clean... Though perhaps even that isn't so simple, given how many wild variables plague the galaxy now. In any case, that Dynasty is thoroughly strange. Why? Did you run into them?"
"Yuki and New Dream encountered them inside the Immaterium."
"The Immaterium?" The Void Dragon shuddered faintly. "That place is absolute poison to us. Back during the war, the Nightbringer's scythe was cast into the Warp, and no matter how hard he searched, he could never retrieve it. Though luckily he failed—which allowed me to claim the mantle of the strongest C'tan!"
Noticing Yuno's total lack of interest in his historical reminiscing, the Void Dragon quickly pivoted back to the point.
"Personally, I don't think you need to waste sleep over them. They are trapped inside the Immaterium—what is there to worry about? Without external intervention, they won't breach realspace even if another ten million years pass."
"Phew... I am completely exhausted."
It had been a very long time since Magnus had faced such an arduous challenge, but fortunately, he had ultimately succeeded.
New Dream had grown a bit taller, now resembling a young girl of about ten. She held a heavy tome in her hands, her expression still one of agonizing misery.
However, the floating Warp entities orbiting her frame clearly demonstrated that she could now comfortably manipulate Immaterium energy.
For a child her age, this was a staggering achievement.
One had to realize that countless natural psykers spent their entire lives without ever reaching such a refined level of control.
At present, while taking down a senior Thousand Sons sorcerer in pure sorcery remained out of her reach, ensuring her own self-defense was entirely trivial.
Magnus held his palm a few inches above New Dream's head. Given his vast psychic mastery and teaching capacity, this was the absolute finest outcome achievable at her current stage.
"New Dream," Magnus spoke softly, "theory and practice must never be severed. If you wish to acquire true, undeniable strength that commands awe, you must continually refine your skills through real-world sorcerous practice. I believe that given time, you will blossom into an exceptionally formidable psyker."
"Father," a sorcerer nearby whispered, "why does that line sound so terribly familiar?"
"Indeed... it sounds suspiciously like what you told us when we finished our own training—"
Under Magnus's piercing glare, the surrounding Thousand Sons sorcerers promptly shut their mouths.
---
Restoring his warm, benevolent demeanor, Magnus turned to Yuki, who had already packed their belongings to conclude this far-from-brief period of study.
"I am deeply grateful for your care and instruction during this time."
"Think nothing of it," Magnus replied with a wave of his hand. "It has been eons since I last indulged in the pure joy of educating a pupil."
"You actually look quite dignified and wise like this," Yuki noted with a faint smile.
Suddenly, Magnus remembered a rather crucial detail.
"Where do you plan to head next? If memory serves, you came directly from Nurgle's realm... Surely you aren't planning to visit—"
Yuki voiced his intention directly.
"I plan to return straight to realspace. My primary goal was for New Dream to learn to channel Warp energy to harmonize the internal conflict within her dual soul. Now that we've accomplished that, it's time to head home."
Magnus nodded in genuine approval.
He prepared to open a gateway to escort the pair out, but a sudden, unannounced teleportation array flared into existence, forcing everyone to freeze in place.
"Leaving so soon? The Prince of Pleasure would be terribly heartbroken."
"Fulgrim?" Magnus frowned, staring at the figure stepping through the light. "What is the meaning of this attire?"
The figure stepping out of the portal was not the slithering, serpentine nightmare Fulgrim usually paraded as, but rather the pristine, uncorrupted form of the Palatine Phoenix from ten thousand years ago.
Magnus experienced a rare surge of melancholy. Seeing Fulgrim cast aside that hideous Daemon form to present his former, breathtaking grandeur felt almost like stepping back into the era of the Great Crusade.
Naturally, he held no nostalgia for the Crusade itself, nor for the Emperor of Mankind, yet he could not deny that those distant days had been the happiest of his existence.
"To instruct a young child," Fulgrim purred, smoothing his immaculate armor, "one must bow to the aesthetic preferences of her remarkably unrefined parents."
New Dream pointed a finger at Fulgrim, looking up curiously. "Who is this big brother who looks like a big sister?"
"That is Fulgrim, New Dream," Yuki corrected gently. "And he's not a big brother—he belongs to the same generation as me and Uncle Magnus, so you should call him Uncle Fulgrim."
Magnus stepped forward, placing his broad frame between New Dream, Yuki, and the newcomer. Tzeentch's decree had been to preserve and cultivate Yuki and New Dream, yet Slaanesh—a being ruled entirely by fleeting desire—was fully capable of ruining everything on a whimsical urge.
"My, my, Mr. Yuki," a silky voice echoed as a slender, ethereal maiden materialized beside Fulgrim, wafting a intoxicating perfume across the hall. "After all these years, your prejudice against me remains as deep as ever."
The feminine incarnation smiled softly, continuing, "To properly instruct little New Dream in the arts and the height of elegance, I have personally remodeled an entire wing of my palace! Even those terrifying daemons have been remade into lovely forms, all to grant little New Dream a flawless learning environment!"
Slaanesh spoke with exquisite grace, yet Yuki's posture remained tensely guarded.
"You're not planning to try anything—"
"Honestly! What kind of talk is that in front of a child?" Slaanesh pouted delicately, rolling her eyes. "Setting other mortals aside, if I were to lay a malicious hand on New Dream, you and the Great Devourer would tear down the Immaterium to destroy me. If you must worry, you ought to worry whether little New Dream, upon discovering the supreme beauty of art and elegance, might grow reluctant to consume organic life later."
Saying so, Slaanesh produced a small, iridescent pouch of sweets. "These were crafted by my own hands! Little New Dream, come have a taste."
Faced with the classic scenario of a sketchy stranger enticing a child with candy, little New Dream shook her head with absolute solemnity. "No. I am not going with you."
Slaanesh let out a dramatic, sorrowful gasp, dabbing at fake tears with a silk handkerchief. "Waaah... the world's misunderstanding of me runs far too deep! Now even a sweet little child refuses to trust me... Why, oh why—"
Yuki stared at Slaanesh's theatrical display, then cast a glance at Magnus and the human-form Fulgrim. In both of their eyes, Yuki read the exact same silent sentiment: *The world's misunderstandings are entirely justified.*
"Let New Dream go," a clear, melodic voice suddenly interjected from behind them. "I shall accompany her as well. I believe New Dream will derive immense benefit from it, provided we keep a personal eye on the entire process."
Yuno stepped out from the shadows.
Her unexpected arrival instantly claimed absolute authority over the conversation.
"However, Slaanesh, I have one non-negotiable condition," Yuno declared coldly. "New Dream can now reside in realspace indefinitely. Your instruction must take place on a physical planet within the material universe."
Slaanesh turned her gaze toward Fulgrim. "How many worlds do we currently hold in realspace?"
"A great deal, My Prince."
"Select the safest and most exquisite among them," Slaanesh commanded fluidly. "Remodel it entirely. We cannot allow mundane security concerns to tarnish little New Dream's impression of me."
She then turned, spreading her hands gracefully toward the Great Devourer. "Now then, Great Devourer, I have offered my pledge. In realspace, you will be able to oversee little New Dream's education every step of the way."
"Very well," Yuno nodded, turning to Yuki. "Let us depart, Yuki."
---
On their way through the spatial breach, Yuki asked Yuno in mild astonishment, "What brought this on? I was certain you would refuse to let Slaanesh near her education."
"Why should I?" Yuno replied softly, a faint smile touching her lips. "Though Slaanesh is indeed... deeply degenerate in many respects, one must admit that in matters of art, elegance, and aesthetic refinement, she stands as an undisputed master. New Dream deserves the finest education available. She is my daughter, after all."
Yuki wiped a bead of nervous sweat from his brow. Luckily, little New Dream was exceptionally gifted, making absorbing complex concepts relatively effortless for her.
Had she been an ordinary child, enduring such immense pressure from galactic heavyweights would have been utterly overwhelming.
"I truly look forward to seeing what kind of person little New Dream grows up to be," Yuno mused warmly.
Gazing at the genuine, radiant smile on Yuno's face—a joy emanating straight from her soul—Yuki felt his lingering worries melt away.
Yuno loved him unconditionally, and she cherished New Dream with her entire being. That truth was beyond all doubt.
In that case, what was there left to hesitate over?
Beside them, little New Dream had already drifted off to sleep, snuggled tightly between her mother and father.
She felt utterly, perfectly happy.
The edge of the Eastern Fringe.
A sector far beyond the reach of the Imperium of Man.
The mortals residing here were the most tragic souls in existence. Marooned on the dark side of the Imperium, severed by the Great Rift, the Imperium of Man had become nothing more than a fading myth to them.
Mortals resorted to cannibalism until the very last human perished.
Such a fate could at least be considered a dignified end for a civilization. The undignified endings, however, were like what had befallen the planet where Yuki's family now arrived.
It had originally been an ordinary Imperial world. Yet following the rupture of the Great Rift, the forces of Chaos came roaring back. After fierce contention among various evil factions, the world ultimately fell into the hands of Slaanesh. A warband of the Emperor's Children had claimed it, transforming the planet into their personal paradise.
"So... what happened to the native inhabitants?"
Having listened to Fulgrim's narrative, Yuki asked flatly.
"Oh, those?" Fulgrim purred, smoothing his velvet tunic. "You can probably find them embedded within the plaster of the walls, or transformed into the delicate ornaments my children crafted."
As he spoke, Fulgrim clapped his hands, signaling his offspring to step forward and welcome their guests.
Looking at the scene before him, Yuki found it genuinely difficult to picture this as a Chaos world ruled by Slaanesh. It resembled a serene Garden World—gurgling streams, pristine ancient woodlands, and elegant architectural structures dotted tastefully across the landscape.
"For a young child," Fulgrim remarked smoothly, "aesthetic cultivation derived from natural beauty is of paramount importance."
Yuno offered no comment, her sharp eyes constantly scanning the perimeter.
Noticing her posture, Fulgrim chuckled lightly. "There is really no need to remain so tense, Great Devourer. Look, have you not relocated your entire fleet directly adjacent to my world? Should anything remotely adverse occur, you could simply command your swarms to consume this entire planet on the spot. Furthermore, I notice you are preparing to deploy a Shadow in the Warp to isolate this world completely. When that happens, it will be us begging you to spare our lives."
Yuno ignored the jab. After a quiet pause, she spoke softly: "Where is Slaanesh?"
"To avoid any unnecessary complications or bias, Slaanesh elected to let me conduct this course personally," Fulgrim replied with a dramatic bow. "You need not question my teaching credentials—I am, after all, a supreme artist of this galaxy."
Fulgrim's striking eyes shifted toward New Dream, who was already captivated by the bizarre, lush flora surrounding them.
"After all," Fulgrim added, his voice dropping to a dark whisper, "one must first comprehend what renders a creation beautiful... only then can one truly appreciate the sublime ecstasy of shattering it."
"Is that really an appropriate educational philosophy?" Yuki scoffed, turning his gaze toward Yuno.
Yuno understood his silent concern.
Yuki was genuinely uncomfortable leaving New Dream in the hands of a creature like Fulgrim. While Slaanesh's positive aspect indeed encompassed supreme artistic mastery, one could never forget the Dark Prince's underlying, corruptive nature.
Though, to be fair, the Tyranids weren't exactly known for their benevolence either.
Previously, putting New Dream through her paces in the Immaterium had served a clear purpose: mastering Warp manipulation to harmonize her internal dual nature. Now, extending her schooling to Chaos art seemed entirely unnecessary.
Yuki conducted a swift mental exchange with Yuno, only to be surprised by how firmly she insisted on letting New Dream learn art from Slaanesh's proxy.
*"Why?"* Yuki asked in their shared mental link.
*"I... I read in books that good parents are supposed to do this,"* Yuno confessed quietly.
Yuki was rendered momentarily speechless as he looked from New Dream back to Yuno.
Did Yuno truly grasp what being a parent entailed? Truthfully, given her eons as a hive mind collective, she likely had no conventional framework for it. Yet here she was, earnestly trying. Should he keep playing along with this game? This roleplay of anxious parents racking their brains over their child's well-rounded development?
After a moment's reflection, a gentle smile broke across Yuki's face. *"Let's go with it then."*
At that moment, Fulgrim's warriors materialized. These Emperor's Children had cast aside their grotesque, mutated armor, dressing instead in the pristine, immaculate wargear of ten thousand years ago. The sight felt like stepping straight back into the Great Crusade—no fleshy mutations, no filthy, degraded appendages. They presented themselves once more as the perfect Legionnaires of the Emperor's Children.
Yuki noticed a few among them trembling faintly with repressed emotion, and he couldn't help but feel a quiet pang of irony.
"You see?" Fulgrim noted, caressing his cheek with nostalgic flair. "Look at the lengths we have gone to for little New Dream's early education. How long has it been since I last faced the world in this form? Heh... were it not for Slaanesh, I would never have regained this vessel so easily. Though using this body—"
Fulgrim cut his train of thought short.
Moments later, four distinct entities stepped forward to encircle them.
War, Death, Famine, and Pestilence.
The four sub-entities split from Yuno's consciousness.
The four sisters surged forward instantly, taking up positions that even Fulgrim could not easily breach.
Sensing Yuno's unyielding stance, Fulgrim offered a self-deprecating smile. "Even after all this effort, you still refuse to grant us a shred of trust? Great Devourer, you are truly a disappointment."
"Shut your mouth, Fulgrim," Yuno commanded coldly. "You have no standing to lecture me."
---
Deep within the Immaterium...
"Tell me, three-headed bird, is there truly any need to take this so seriously?" Slaanesh asked, her voice echoing softly through the Warp chamber.
Sharing the domain were her three siblings. Ever since the Tyranid swarms intensified their advance and the Emperor's psychic light surged, the four Ruinous Powers found themselves gathering far more frequently to confer.
Tzeentch toyed with a crystalline mirror in his feathered hand, voicing his thoughts smoothly.
"Slaanesh, do not underestimate these gestures. New Dream is an anomaly capable of altering the ultimate timeline. Even if you doubt my foresight, you must trust the Anathema's judgment—and He has marked little New Dream as the galaxy's future hope. What if she matures into an entity capable of countering the Great Devourer itself? Furthermore, as long as New Dream remains enrolled in these 'lessons,' her parents maintain an open, convenient line of communication with us, allowing us to gather invaluable intelligence. No matter how you look at it, maintaining a warm relationship with little New Dream is vital."
"Must you always filter every matter through cold calculation?" Nurgle grunted, adjusting his rot-draped cloak. "Look at how adorable little New Dream is. When you see her, do you not simply wish for her to know happiness?"
"Nurgle, if I may speak frankly," Tzeentch replied dryly, "your definition of 'happiness' differs drastically from ours. Besides, she only survives these environments because she is the offspring of the Great Devourer. Any ordinary child would have disintegrated instantly."
Only Khorne remained silent, methodically sharpening the edge of his massive broadaxe.
"I will not indulge in your spineless subtleties," Khorne rumbled softly, his eyes burning with crimson fury. "Whoever enters my domain must display raw courage and honor, fighting to the absolute death!"
Slaanesh scoffed softly. "What are you rambling about, red-face? It is already a miracle that they agreed to let her study under my proxy. The arts I offer suit a young girl's growth—a refined sensibility that both the Great Devourer and her useless mate sorely lack. As for martial combat, do you truly believe the Great Devourer is weaker than you? If little New Dream refuses to set foot in your domain later, don't blame us for leaving you out."
Khorne lapsed back into heavy silence.
Tzeentch smoothly smoothed over the tension: "Very well, let us leave things as they stand for now. At the very least, Slaanesh and Fulgrim have successfully anchored that massive Tyranid fleet in place. For now, we had best concentrate our forces on resolving our primary concern."
"You mean... the bio-fleet advancing directly upon Terra?"
"Indeed," Tzeentch murmured gravely. "Remote though the possibility may be, if that fleet truly breaches Terra's defenses and forces that paraplegic entity off His Throne... we shall face a calamity beyond reckoning."