Deep within the City of the Holy Anthem.
The ritual in the grand hall of the Conmo Dynasty was nearing its end.
Of the five hundred and twenty-seven psykers, over five hundred had completely collapsed to the floor. Their bodies were undergoing varying degrees of mutation as they chanted blasphemous prayers to Tzeentch.
Their eyes had all turned a solid purple, their pupils reflecting constantly shifting, non-Euclidean geometric patterns. The air was thick with viscous Warp energy. The very fabric of reality had grown fragile here, causing the walls to constantly warp and shift.
Sacken stood at the center of the altar, looking up at the Warp rift in mid-air, which had now expanded to five meters in diameter.
Deep within the rift, the massive phantom projection of Aetaos'rau'keres flickered in and out of sight. The Greater Daemon's three pairs of eyes stared down at him simultaneously, carrying a look of approval.
"You have done exceedingly well, Sacken," Aetaos's voice echoed directly within his soul. "Five hundred psykers falling into the embrace of the Changer of Ways simultaneously... this sacrifice is more than enough to elevate my standing within the Realm of Mutation by another tier. What reward do you desire?"
Sacken dropped to one knee. He wasn't kneeling to Aetaos, but to the infinitely shifting purple sea of stars deep within the rift—the realm representing the true essence of the Changer of Ways itself.
"I thirst for knowledge, great emissary," his voice was fanatical and devout. "Knowledge regarding Sanguinius's weaknesses. Knowledge on how to severely wound a Primarch. Knowledge on how to... make him taste the very agony my family endured all those years ago."
Aetaos let out a string of joyous, chittering laughter. "Knowledge? I can certainly give you that. But a Primarch is not so easily dealt with, even with the power you have just acquired."
The Greater Daemon's phantom wavered slightly, and a beam of purple light shot out from the rift, sinking straight into Sacken's forehead.
"This is the combat data of the Blood Angels Legion, along with an analysis of Sanguinius's known abilities. As for how to severely wound him..." Aetaos tilted its avian head, revealing a maw full of needle-like teeth. "I suggest you strike at what he cares about the most."
"And what does Sanguinius care about?" Sacken asked.
"He cares about salvation. He cares about the Imperium's Great Crusade." Aetaos's voice dripped with malicious amusement. "If you can drag this entire world completely into the embrace of the Changer of Ways, you will gain power enough to rival—or even kill—Sanguinius. As for how to accomplish this, the Changer of Ways will guide you."
Sacken understood.
He slowly stood up, looking at the five hundred-plus fully corrupted psykers filling the grand hall, then glanced at the twenty-odd psykers who were still struggling, though clearly on the brink of succumbing.
He turned to face all the corrupted psykers, his voice amplified by psychic power to blanket the entire hall.
"My brethren! Disciples of the Changer of Ways! Now, I give you your very first task." Sacken pointed toward the grand hall's exit. "Scatter to every corner of the City of the Holy Anthem. Go to the places you once worked. Go to the districts where you once lived. Go to what you once considered your homes. Use the power you have just attained. Use the knowledge bestowed upon you by the Changer of Ways..."
A twisted smile spread across his face. "...And turn this hive city into our... hunting ground."
The grand hall doors blasted open!
Countless lesser Tzeentchian daemons and over five hundred mutated psykers swarmed out like a bursting purple flood, pouring into the streets of the City of the Holy Anthem.
Most of them still retained their basic human forms. However, the purple runic veins bulging under their skin, the malignant purple light radiating from their eyes, and the foul stench of the Warp clinging to their bodies completely betrayed their true nature.
As they surged outward, the Tzeentchian psychic energy permeating the air began to spread like a contagion.
The streetlights flickered with bizarre, impossible spectrums of color. Graffiti on the walls began to writhe and alter itself. Passersby collapsed with splitting headaches, horrific hallucinations flashing before their eyes...
The corruption of the City of the Holy Anthem had begun.
Sacken stood at the entrance of the grand hall, watching the scene unfold.
Under the saturation of Warp energy, the old scar on his left cheek split completely open. Fine purple tendrils sprouted from the wound, weaving themselves into fresh, blasphemous runes across his face.
"Father, Mother, my brothers and sisters..." he whispered softly. His voice held no sorrow, only a chilling, absolute madness. "Are you watching from the shores of the Warp? Watch closely. Watch how I use the blood and soul of this world... to offer you... a sacrifice... delayed by eighty years."
--
Inside the Kent Hive conference room.
The long conference table was stacked high with administrative ledgers and holographic projectors.
On the wall hung a star chart of the Aurelian System, an administrative zoning map of Kent Hive, and... a somewhat crudely hand-drawn vision board outlining Crimson Dawn's developmental goals.
Sanguinius took his seat at the head of the table.
His wings rested naturally by his sides, the pristine white feathers nearly brushing the floor.
Azkaellon stood just behind his shoulder, and ten Sanguinary Guard terminators secured the exits.
The layout was exactly identical to the one in the City of the Holy Anthem.
Cogboy sat at the presenter's seat, Schrödinger Bro took the secondary seat, and Blood Angels' Second Emperor stood in the corner as the minute-taker.
"Begin," Sanguinius said calmly.
"Yes, my Lord."
Cogboy activated the holographic projector and began his report, utilizing a delivery he had rehearsed countless times.
"It has been exactly thirty-seven days since the Crimson Dawn accepted the mandate of the Iron Hands Legion to assume administrative control of Kent Hive on the 273rd day of the Standard Terran Year, 976.M30."
"Our phase one operational focus was on stabilizing public order, restoring industrial production, and improving civilian welfare..."
Item by item. Point by point.
The data was meticulous, supported by charts, graphs, and on-site visual records.
It was the absolute textbook template of a model local administrator's report.
Sanguinius listened quietly, his finger tapping lightly against the armrest out of habit.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
[Regional Channel]:
[Fucking Loyalist]: I can't breathe... is a Primarch's pressure always this suffocating?
[Titus Shine My Shoes]: No shit, he's a demigod. We should be thanking the Emperor he hasn't just telepathically ripped our brains apart to see our memories yet.
[Schrödinger's Loyalist]: Quiet, everyone. The critical part is coming up.
Sure enough, just as Cogboy began reporting on the hive's resource stockpiles, Sanguinius raised his hand.
"Halt."
The conference room instantly fell dead silent.
"Governor Cage," Sanguinius looked at Cogboy, his amber-gold slit pupils completely devoid of emotion. "According to intelligence provided by the City of the Holy Anthem, thirteen hive cities across Aurelian IV have been attacked by unidentified individuals over the past five days. The estimated value of the lost resources exceeds fifty-eight billion Aquila Thrones."
His voice was perfectly calm.
"Kent Hive was also on the list of attacked targets."
Cogboy's face instantly adopted the perfect expression—a masterful blend of righteous anger and deep grievance.
"Yes, my Lord! The attack occurred in the early hours four days ago. A group of unidentified thugs suddenly breached the western blast doors of the hive and engaged in a fierce firefight with our garrison."
The holographic projector played the combat logs—which were, in reality, scenes entirely directed and acted out by the players themselves. Eight thugs in power armor storming the warehouses, the PDF fighting back valiantly, explosions, gunfire, screams...
The footage was exceptionally intense and incredibly realistic.
"The battle lasted for two hours. The thugs ultimately withdrew with our supplies, leaving us with catastrophic losses," Cogboy's voice was laced with pain. "Warehouses Three, Seven, and Nine were completely ransacked. We lost fourteen million tons of raw promethium ore, three million tons of refined plasteel, over two thousand pieces of industrial machinery... Our garrison suffered four thousand four hundred and twenty-three KIA, with the number of critically wounded too high to calculate... To this day, we do not know the identities, origins, or motives of these attackers..."
He raised his head, his eyes brimming with the desperate hope that the Legion would seek justice for them.
"Lord Sanguinius, Kent Hive had only just begun its reconstruction when we suffered this devastating blow... Our subsequent civilian welfare programs, our infrastructure repairs... all of it will be severely delayed. We... truly need help."
Sanguinius looked at Cogboy. He stared at him for a full ten seconds.
Then, he suddenly asked a seemingly completely unrelated question: "Governor Cage, the mechanical augmetics replacing your right eye and both arms... were they the result of an injury, or voluntary augmentation?"
Cogboy froze for a fraction of a second but answered quickly, "To answer you, my Lord, they were the result of a cave-in accident during a ruin excavation expedition ten years ago. It was only thanks to the intervention of a Magos of the Mechanicus that my life was saved."
"Ruin excavation?" Sanguinius nodded slightly. "So, you proclaim yourself an enthusiast of archeotech?"
"Yes, my Lord. My companions and I are deeply interested in the technology of ancient humanity. We have been constantly scouring the wastelands, seeking and studying ruins, in the hopes of recovering lost technologies to contribute to the Imperium."
"A noble aspiration."
With that, Sanguinius suddenly stood up.
His pristine white wings unfurled, the pale golden psychic light flowing across the feathers.
He walked over to the hand-drawn vision board outlining Crimson Dawn's developmental goals and stared at it quietly for a while.
The board used simple lines to depict the future of Kent Hive: clean streets, tree-lined parks, children running on school playgrounds, workers eating hot meals in public cafeterias after a shift...
Next to the drawings was a line of small, handwritten text:
"So that everyone who struggles to live, may live with dignity."
Sanguinius reached out, his fingertips gently brushing over the words.
Then he turned around and looked at Cogboy.
"Your vision is commendable. Your data is impeccable. And your loss report... is absolutely flawless."
He spoke the last half-sentence very softly.
But Cogboy, Schrödinger Bro, Blood Angels' Second Emperor... every single player felt a cold sweat instantly break out down their spines.
[Regional Channel]:
[Schrödinger's Loyalist]: He knows?!
[Fugitive Cogboy of the Mechanicus]: Keep calm! It might just be a probe!
[Blood Angels' Second Emperor]: My idol's eyes truly miss nothing!
Sanguinius walked back to his seat and sat down.
"I will remain in Kent Hive for one day." Sanguinius looked at Cogboy, his voice returning to its usual gentleness. "During this time, I will tour the various levels of the hive to see with my own eyes the extent of the civilian improvements you reported. If everything proves true..." Sanguinius paused. "...the Ninth Legion will consider submitting Kent Hive's administrative model to Terra as a positive case study."
Cogboy hurriedly bowed. "We thank you, my Lord!"
"However." Sanguinius's tone shifted abruptly. "If I discover any falsified data, any deception, or any... heretical behavior contrary to the Imperial Truth..."
His wings flapped lightly, almost unconsciously.
"...then the punishment you endure will be far more severe than the losses inflicted by those thieves."
The instant the words left his mouth...
Sanguinius suddenly snapped his head up, his amber-gold slit pupils contracting violently!
The wings on his back flared open completely, the psychic luminescence exploding in intensity!
"My Lord?!" Azkaellon drew his sword in a flash.
Sanguinius did not answer.
His gaze pierced straight through the walls of the conference room, through the Governor's Palace, and stared directly toward the City of the Holy Anthem.
There...
A massive, twisted surge of Warp energy—overflowing with mutation and a ravenous thirst for knowledge—had just erupted.
It was like a colossal boulder violently plummeting into a placid lake.
Massive ripples were expanding outward from the City of the Holy Anthem, rapidly engulfing all of Aurelian IV.
"Azkaellon," Sanguinius's voice turned freezing cold. "Contact the orbital fleet immediately. Initiate a full scan of the City of the Holy Anthem. Notify all forces to enter combat readiness."
He stood up, psychic runes beginning to flow across every single feather of his wings.
"Something... has just crawled out of the Warp."