As Darth Vader led a portion of his fleet into hyperspace, back in the main universe—within the deepest chamber of the Imperial Palace—the Meditation Hall shimmered with the cold brilliance of eternal psychic "flames" reflecting off the Golden Throne.
Su Yang sat in solemn stillness, clad in black-and-gold power armor that resonated faintly with the energy conduits of the Throne, sending ripples through the immaterium.
"…"
Suddenly, his brows furrowed, and within eyes as deep as the abyss between stars, a sharp light flashed—
Through the scattered offspring stationed in the Star Wars universe, Su Yang had sensed a deeply unsettling chaotic pulse clawing back along the dimensional veil.
It felt as if countless slime-coated tendrils were attempting to pierce through his very skin.
Fragmented visions surged into his mind.
The skies above Coruscant were torn open, viridescent plague clouds slithered like living beasts, devouring skyscrapers;
Rivers of blood flowed through what were once thriving avenues, bloated corpses drifting along the surface;
Mutated stormtroopers executed screaming civilians with rusted blasters that glowed with Slaanesh's pink light.
And at the center of it all stood a familiar figure—Darth Vader.
But this Vader was no longer a melding of machine and flesh. Beneath pale skin coursed dark red veins; his newly grown hands ended in crystalline claws; his black cloak shimmered with ever-shifting Chaos sigils.
Su Yang's right index finger tapped the throne's armrest unconsciously. Each touch set off a ring of golden psychic ripples.
He didn't need intelligence reports—his foresight alone confirmed a horrifying truth:
Coruscant had fallen into the maelstrom of Chaos.
It might soon become another Eye of Terror.
Imperial warships above the planet were growing fleshy tendrils, firing living spores instead of lasers.
And the Coruscant system itself had become untraceable by conventional means, as if veiled by some invisible force.
But Su Yang understood why the Chaos Gods were so hungry for this universe: the Dark Side of the Force was practically a tailor-made channel for Warp corruption.
And Vader himself had become the perfect anchor for Chaos' grand invasion.
That Dark Lord, forged in hatred and rage, had a soul riddled with cracks—each one a seedbed for Warp contagion.
Tracing back to the Battle of Scarif—though the Blood Ravens had stormed the battlefield with thunderous force and seized the Death Star, they missed the crucial opportunity to eliminate Vader.
When Magnus' psychic storm swept the skies, when Logar's sermons echoed through the void, and before Cose's shadow blanketed the Death Star, Vader had already withdrawn—almost as if forewarned.
Commanding his flagship and fleet, Vader had left behind strange ripples in hyperspace—disturbances hinting at higher-dimensional beings guiding his retreat.
After Tarkin and other Imperial leaders perished, the Empire's power structure collapsed into vacuum.
Vader, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. Commanderless fleets quickly pledged allegiance to him. Billions of stormtroopers instinctively bent the knee.
But the true turning point came after Vader's confrontation with Gabriel Angelos.
In that clash of lightsaber and power sword, Vader, perhaps for the first time, felt the pulse of real psychic power.
As the Blood Ravens' Captain met him blade for blade, the whispers of the Warp likely surged into Vader's mind, flooding him with visions of countless parallel realities, glimpses of the Emperor upon the Golden Throne, and the gnawing hunger of the Chaos Gods watching from beyond.
Those splintered insights planted dangerous seeds in his soul.
And now, Su Yang could clearly perceive how the four Chaos Gods seduced Vader:
Khorne showed him visions of honor reclaimed through war,
Nurgle promised him an immortal flesh,
Tzeentch revealed the "true" secrets behind the Force,
Slaanesh offered pleasures that transcended mortal experience.
In just a few days, the proud Sith Lord had gone from doubt… to complete submission.
As ruler of the Human Imperium, Su Yang knew well: Chaos would stop at nothing to hinder the Imperium's rise.
"What a painstaking scheme…"
His low voice echoed through the chamber.
He recalled the Blood Ravens' report, which compared Vader's Force prowess to that of an Olympian god's psychic might.
Before becoming Chaos' pawn, Vader—already a supreme wielder of the Force—was a match for most Primarchs and gods below Athena or Hera in combat. Even Sigismund, master swordsman that he was, would struggle to meet him head-on.
Yet now, Su Yang could feel—through the Warp—that Vader's strength had transcended.
Nurgle's gift of an immortal body, Khorne's combat instinct, Tzeentch's cunning intellect, and Slaanesh's sensory refinement—all these forces intertwined, elevating Vader beyond mortal limits.
He now rivaled top-tier Primarchs—and in some aspects, surpassed them.
Su Yang considered dispatching additional legions to the Star Wars universe.
But then, he paused.
Magnus, Logar, Cose, Dorn, and Perturabo had yet to face the corrupted Vader directly. Rushing reinforcements might upset the current deployments. Still, proper safeguards were essential.
Thus, he turned to Apu at the foot of the throne and commanded:
"Notify Athena and Hera. Have them lead the Olympian Demi-God Legion to join the Grey Knights in immediate deployment to Universe Seventeen. Instruct the Grey Knights to focus on containing Warp corruption and halting its spread."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Apu bowed and promptly relayed the orders.
Elsewhere, on the training grounds, Athena withdrew her war spear—her gaze turning razor-sharp.
In her temple, Hera set aside her golden goblet, regal features clouded with a rare seriousness.
Su Yang, meanwhile, turned his eyes once more toward the rift in the Warp.
The situation was grim—but he trusted his children's power.
Magnus' psychic mastery, Logar's force of faith, Cose's precognition, Dorn and Perturabo's impenetrable defenses and brutal hammers, Athena's tactical brilliance, Hera's divine sorcery—and of course, the Grey Knights, born to counter Chaos—together they would be enough.
Thus, Su Yang chose not to intervene personally—unless absolutely necessary.
Meanwhile, in orbit above Tatooine in the Star Wars universe, aboard the bridge of an Intrepid-class super-heavy cruiser—
Sigismund stood like a steel statue before the central command console. Servo joints in his ornate power armor hummed softly as his arms remained crossed.
The commander of the Black Templars looked even sterner than usual, the furrows between his brows like chiseled stone.
A hololithic image flickered before him—the nightmare of Coruscant.
The once-proud galactic capital had become a Chaotic playground.
Stormtroopers mutated into abominations. Civilians knelt in the streets, rotting lips mumbling blasphemous mantras. Their bodies sprouted extra limbs and warped bone before the camera's eye.
Then the feed shook violently.
In the final image, a crimson wound tore open the sky. Countless inhuman shapes poured out. A psychic storm erupted—and the last frame froze on the sight of eyes staring down from the clouds.
Then—static.
An inquisitorial agent stepped forward, "Commander, this was the final transmission forwarded from our Coruscant outpost."
He continued, "Our Division, through a contact within the Jedha underworld, inserted six elite agents and a prototype synth into Coruscant."
He pulled up another feed—plainclothes agents setting up surveillance equipment in the city's lower levels, posing as spice traders, using the sewer system to install dozens of monitoring nodes.
"The data indicates they had just finished establishing the intel network when Vader's fleet broke through orbital defenses."
The agent's voice darkened, "After transmitting this footage… they lost all contact."
Sigismund raised a hand, stopping further words.
He understood the implication:
Those loyal agents had likely become part of the monstrosities shown on screen.
Even worse—before disconnecting, the synth reported a familiar energy signature… a herald of Chaos manifesting in realspace.
With a flick of his hand, the holo-image vanished.
He turned to the inquisitorial agent, voice steady and cold:
"Has your department, or the intel division, predicted Vader's next move?"
The agent straightened, activated a secondary holoprojector, and replied:
"Commander, based on analysis of Vader's patterns and Chaos tactics… we believe his next targets are…"
He hesitated, "His two children: Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa."
Sigismund raised his left hand, metallic knuckles tapping his chin.
"Then," he murmured, "after fully corrupting Coruscant, Vader's Chaos fleet may split—one branch heading for Yavin 4's Rebel base, the other… returning to his birthplace, Tatooine."
His words cut cleanly to the truth.
To sever the last threads of his former identity—Anakin Skywalker—these were the ideal hunting grounds.
Even worse, a corrupted father hunting his children was precisely the kind of twisted drama the Chaos Gods relish as sacrifice.
Just as he was about to issue an alert, the command console flashed with a crimson priority signal.
A holosymbol bloomed into view: the encrypted rune of their legion's Primarch.
Dorn.
Without hesitation, Sigismund activated the transmission. Brilliant blue light burst from the hard-light projector.
Particles converged into the towering form of Rogal Dorn—his presence oppressive even as a projection.
Arms crossed, his granite face turned to his son.
His voice was low, heavy—each syllable like a warhammer striking steel.
"Sigismund. I see you understand the gravity of the situation. I've reached consensus with four other Primarchs."
The projection expanded to a tactical starmap. Coruscant glowed in blood-red.
Dorn pointed, "The Night Lords and Word Bearers will act as the spearhead. Once the Emperor's reinforcements arrive, we launch a strike on Coruscant."
He traced a blue path across the map, "Our objective: delay Warp contamination and buy time for planetary purging."
The map then highlighted Magnus' symbol.
"Primarch Magnus will personally pursue Vader. The longer that puppet lives, the closer this universe edges toward damnation."
Sigismund noticed the faint crease in Dorn's brow—rare emotion for the stone-faced Primarch.
The map shifted to show outer ring defenses.
Dorn's voice sharpened, "The Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors will fortify the major trade routes."
The projection zoomed in on Tatooine and Yavin 4.
"These two worlds are critical. I'm deploying heavy armor support to your location."
Dorn leaned forward. His projection rippled.
"Remember: you must balance protecting civilians and preserving our strength."
"If the battle worsens and a choice must be made… I trust you to choose correctly. Understood?"
"Yes, Father."
Sigismund struck his chest with a closed fist.
He would not fail.
He would hold the line.
------------------
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American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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