When Tatooine's twin suns rose to their zenith, scorching white light poured down upon the temporary base built by Sigismund, already standing tall amidst the desert.
Several ancient rocky gorges, like scars carved by a titan, crisscrossed the land. Towering cliffs loomed on either side, and weathered stone pillars stood like silent sentinels, their forms enduring through eons of wind and sand.
A dark river flowed at the bottom of the canyon, its murky waters winding through sandstone crevices, breathing life into a rare oasis on this desert planet.
The Engineering Division had embedded the core of the base deep into the gorge, utilizing the natural terrain to construct a multi-layered defense system.
Most crucially, an array of energy shield generators formed the outermost layer. A faint blue ionic barrier shimmered under the heatwaves, blocking not only the twin suns' lethal radiation but also potential orbital bombardments.
The middle layer was formed by a psychic barrier personally woven by Hera. Translucent membranes inscribed with divine runes floated like flowing amber, designed to immobilize and dismantle any intruder unauthorized by the Goddess of Marriage.
At this moment, the sun's intensity reached its peak.
The light of the twin stars refracted off the gorge walls, creating a magnificent halo above the base.
The upper light shone in blinding platinum, while the lower layer, scattered by dust, turned into a deep, dusky red—as if the sky itself had been split in two by a blade.
The energy shield glowed with rainbow hues under the dual illumination. When micro sandstorms struck the barrier, it sparked with waves of energy, like fiery stars exploding outward.
At this time,
Sigismund removed his helmet, letting the dry desert wind sweep across his chiseled face.
Inside a thirty-meter-tall observation tower at the base's perimeter, the legendary commander of the Imperial Fists stood with arms crossed, overlooking the orderly bustle below like a statue.
The jagged shadows cast by the cliffs covered the entire base in a patchwork of light and darkness.
The fortifications constructed by the Engineering Division in just twelve standard hours were a military miracle. Nano-alloy structures gleamed coldly under the sun, automated turrets slowly turned like alert hounds, and the generators of the energy shield hummed in harmony with the howling winds of the wasteland, composing a unique battle hymn.
A massive procession wound its way through the narrow canyon entrance.
Battle-Knights in power armor still bore scorched marks from previous encounters. Their standard-bearers held aloft flags emblazoned with the Imperial sigil, clearing a safe path for the civilians behind them.
Sisters of Battle held flame-throwers and bolters in hand while reverent hymns echoed from behind their helmets.
Iron Wing riders and the great dragon Níðhöggr traced sweeping arcs through the sky, vigilantly scanning every crevice that might conceal a threat.
Civilians stumbled through the gorge, led in groups to the outermost staging area under the Sisters' guidance.
Agents of the Inquisition held scanning devices, their icy lenses sweeping across each survivor's pupils.
Behind the agents stood their personal Terminators, their vocoders issuing mechanical commands: "Remain calm. Submit to inspection."
Though these civilians had crossed two hundred kilometers of death-scorched desert under Hera's protection, and the Goddess of Marriage and Birth had erected a psychic barrier to purge all traces of chaos corruption,
Sigismund knew well—on a planet shrouded by the shadow of the Warp, one could never be too cautious.
The Inquisition's inspections were not merely procedural; they were a symbol—a symbol of the Imperium of Man's unrelenting vigilance against Chaos.
Suddenly, Sigismund's eyes narrowed.
Even without his helmet's enhanced optics, his gene-enhanced sight had detected something unusual.
At the horizon where the northern desert met the sky, a lone figure was racing toward the base at an incredible speed.
This mode of movement was not that of a normal human—each leap crossed dozens of meters, raising a long trail of dust behind them.
Sigismund's fingers unconsciously brushed the hilt of his sword.
On this ever-changing battlefield, any unidentified approacher could pose a threat.
However, he quickly realized that the lone figure was not an enemy, but the Goddess of War—Athena—who had diverted Chaos's main force for them.
The great dragon Níðhöggr also detected Athena's presence. Its enormous obsidian wings beat forcefully, casting molten-gold reflections under Tatooine's twin suns.
ROAR~——!
With an earth-shaking bellow, the ancient dragon wheeled about and soared northward.
Each beat of its wings stirred violent gales, spinning sand and gravel into spiraling storms.
In moments, Níðhöggr appeared above the base, carrying the Goddess of War upon his back.
When the shadow of the colossal dragon covered the entire gorge, the civilians below raised their heads, breath caught in their throats.
In their Star Wars galaxy, dragons existed only in ancient legends—let alone a golden war goddess riding one through the sky.
The nomadic humans of Tatooine were the first to kneel, pressing calloused palms to the burning sand, foreheads flat to the ground.
These desert dwellers had never imagined they'd witness a divine manifestation in their lifetime.
An elderly man trembled, his clouded eyes reflecting the miracle above, his cracked lips silently mouthing prayers passed down from ancestors.
The rest of the humans were either frozen in place, dropping whatever they held;
Or instinctively drawing symbols on their chests—not even knowing whether this goddess belonged to their pantheon;
Many stepped back in awe, but couldn't look away, afraid to miss even a second of this supernatural vision.
Alien races reacted differently.
Twi'leks' long head-tails twitched, sensing the waves of force in the air. More cautious species clustered together, thick fingers gripping portable plasma weapons—yet none dared to raise them.
Athena leapt lightly from the dragon's back, the Spear of Victory glowing with soft divine light in her hand.
When she stood beside Hera, the divine radiance surrounding both goddesses interwove, forming visible ripples of psychic energy in the air.
The civilians instinctively raised hands to shield their eyes—not from the brightness, but from the primal fear in their souls before beings of higher dimensions.
As Níðhöggr folded his wings and landed, the entire gorge quaked.
His obsidian-like body was etched with ancient runes, each scale pulsing faintly with his breath.
When the dragon lowered his head, his exhalation melted glassy patterns into the sand. Several civilians who stood too close scrambled back in panic.
Boom, boom!
At that moment, the distinctive heavy footfalls of mag-booted armor echoed nearby.
Sigismund had re-donned his helmet and approached, leading over a dozen Terminator-armored Imperial Fists. Their power armor gleamed with a cold ivory sheen under the sunlight.
When Sigismund's gaze fell upon the golden cocoon cradled in Athena's arms, the battle-hardened warrior visibly paused.
Even through his helmet, he could sense the astonishing potential within that small form.
"A… primarch?"
Sigismund's voice came through his helmet's external speaker, tinged with rare uncertainty.
The Terminators behind him reacted instantly at the mention of the word "primarch," shifting into a tight protective formation.
The revelation was so staggering that even these steel-hearted warriors showed a flicker of unrest.
Athena gave a slight nod and presented the infant to them.
The cocoon turned transparent at the right moment, revealing the sleeping child within—
His face was serene, yet starlight shimmered faintly between strands of his hair.
As the twin suns' rays bathed him, all present saw the air around him subtly warping—as if reality itself bowed to his existence.
!!!
At that moment, Tatooine's people were thrown into complete confusion and awe.
Gods and dragons—once thought to exist only in legend—now stood before them in the flesh. What destiny lay in store for a baby carried here under divine protection?
An old colonist, hair snow-white, suddenly dropped to his knees, tears tracing weather-worn cheeks.
"The Chosen One…"
The old man choked on the words. "He must be the Son sent by the Light Side of the Force to save us."
His voice sparked ripples through the crowd. More and more people knelt. Even the most skeptical alien races couldn't deny that this scene defied all known logic.
A gene-primarch?
Not far away, a group of Spartans felt the same shock.
Under Dr. Halsey's guidance, they had studied human history and the Imperium's brief rise.
Tales of the Emperor walking the stars for centuries and the apocalyptic arrival of the primarchs were seen as exaggerated myths.
There had never been any solid imagery or footage proving that primarchs descended from the heavens.
The Spartans preferred to believe that primarchs were top-tier biological weapons developed by the Emperor through advanced biotechnology.
But now, the myth stood before them, alive.
Through his helmet's HUD, John could clearly see the baby wrapped in golden energy in Athena's arms.
This exactly matched the described "primarch descent" phenomena. According to the Codex Humanis, the birth of every primarch marked a turning point in the galaxy's fate.
The Imperium had known peace for so long that its citizens believed such miracles would not reoccur in their lifetimes.
Meanwhile, Cortana (data clone) was rapidly cycling through the Mjolnir tactical network.
She accessed the scan systems of all Mjolnir power armor units, analyzing the baby from multiple angles at the molecular level.
Data streams formed a dazzling starfield in her virtual view. Each decoded gene sequence and its double-helix model materialized in her holographic hand.
It was clear—the child was undoubtedly a primarch.
Cross-referencing Athena's energy fluctuations and trajectory, she deduced that the goddess's sudden return was no accident. The infant primarch required nourishment that ordinary humans simply could not provide.
With that realization, her holographic image turned to Hera in the near distance.
The Goddess of Marriage and Birth glowed with a gentle halo. Myth said her milk could grant mortals immortal bodies.
Hera stood silently beneath Níðhöggr's shadow, her eyes flickering slightly.
She had known better than anyone why Athena had returned so abruptly.
The golden-cocooned child now required care that only an Olympian deity could provide.
A breeze passed through the gorge, lifting the hem of Hera's crimson robe.
She walked forward slowly. Where her feet touched the cracked earth, red blossoms bloomed.
When she reached for the primarch, divine light flowed from her fingertips, intertwining with Athena's war-born power to form a warm, rainbow-hued aura around the baby.
"From here on, I'll take care of this little one."
Hera's voice was as gentle as a spring breeze, imbued with the rhythm of motherhood.
She looked down at the baby in her arms and, though he was a stranger, her long-silent divinity stirred—as if rain had finally fallen on long-parched Olympus.
Athena paused for half a second before releasing her hold.
Famed for her rationality, a flicker of hesitation passed through her eyes. The tip of the Spear of Victory unconsciously etched a half-arc in the sand.
"Mm."
Athena's reply was terse and composed, yet the tightening of her jawline betrayed inner turmoil.
A strange silence fell between the two goddesses.
Níðhöggr, sensitive to the shift in mood, snorted a puff of fire-tinged breath.
The sound roused the sleeping primarch, who unconsciously reached toward Athena, his tiny fingers opening and closing as if to grasp her falling hair.
Hera glanced at Athena with understanding.
She noticed the Goddess of War had stepped forward ever so slightly—only to straighten up at once upon realizing the lapse.
What passed in an instant for mortals was as clear as ink on parchment to divine beings. In this brief interaction, Athena had already formed a bond with the primarch beyond her duty.
"He will receive the best care," Hera added softly, brushing golden strands from the baby's forehead.
Athena gazed deeply at the child in the swaddle, then suddenly raised a hand and infused a sliver of divine power into his chest.
The light entered like a falling star, leaving an olive branch-shaped glow over his heart.
"This is my blessing," Athena said, her voice now soft. "May wisdom and courage be with you."
And as Athena entrusted the newborn primarch to Hera for the time being, elsewhere within the Emperor of Mankind's domain, Samuel Young was already considering how to assign Anakin Skywalker's "role"…
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I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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