"Magnus… your burden is great."
Aboard the flagship Imperial Wrath of the Second Legion, the Punishers, within the grand palace-like bridge beneath the open dome of faint-blue, diamond-patterned defensive fields—
Bzzzt—
Bathed in radiant light, Selene's voice carried an undeniable tone of authority and command.
The light emanated from within her own form, projected through streams of condensed Honkai particles. As the energy coalesced and refracted, ribbons of light encircled her like an ethereal crown. Her long, cloudlike white hair shimmered faintly beneath the glow, creating a soft halo around her spirit projection.
This was Selene's subspace manifestation—her holographic form projected across super-spatial relay channels, personally addressing one segment of her mustered expeditionary fleet.
Before her stood Budo, Grand General of the Empire and Lord of the Punishers Legion.
Years of front-line campaigning had not made him appear haggard or bloodthirsty. Instead, there was a quiet discipline in his manner—an unyielding presence born not from brute aggression but from deep, cultivated restraint. A man of few words, his reputation alone could silence a hall.
Clad in a suit of iron-gray power armor of intricate craftsmanship, Budo towered among even the tallest Astartes—broad as a fortress wall, steady as an unyielding bastion. His squared jaw and short golden hair framed a face like hewn stone—unyielding and commanding.
A living bulwark of steel and duty.
What pleased Selene most about Budo was his professionalism—an absolute soldier who never interfered in politics, never overstepped the boundary of command. Unless she gave a direct order, he would remain ever loyal, his authority confined to the field of war alone.
He was not alone. To his left and right stood two other Primarchs—veteran commanders who had fought beside him through countless campaigns: Konrad Curze and Angron.
The former stood silent, his expression carved from obsidian, those black, depthless eyes lowering briefly to show acknowledgment of Selene's presence. The latter, in contrast, grinned broadly—his fierce yet honest smile revealing both his eagerness and his lack of subtlety.
Selene ignored Angron's restless desire to be the vanguard. Her attention was fixed instead on another—the one kneeling before her.
Just like the golden giant's original version, Magnus was a towering giant with crimson skin. Unlike the others, he wore no sealed armor, but a golden suit of psychic-reactive plating—light and open, revealing the explosive musculature beneath.
Upon his shoulder plates shone the sigil of the Thousand Sons Legion—an olive wreath encircling a radiant ring adorned with outward-pointing spines, beneath which the Roman numeral XV gleamed.
Magnus now knelt upon the gilded floor, lowering the proud head that few men or gods had ever seen bowed—an act of utmost loyalty to his Empress.
"In accordance with Your will," Magnus declared solemnly, "my Legion's mission lies not in the conquest of single cities or systems. We will strike directly for Sol—the Throneworld of Terra—and offer, on Your behalf, a covenant to their so-called lord of mankind. However, Your Majesty, according to the intelligence gathered from interstellar merchants, this universe's human civilization appears… highly centralized, xenophobic, and cult-like in governance…"
At the words xenophobic and authoritarian, Magnus' tone faltered slightly. His brow furrowed.
It had gone too far.
This star-spanning Imperium, enduring for ten millennia, was—impossibly—more extreme than even what he had once thought the height of order: the Sacred Selene Empire itself.
Lifting his head, the Primarch of the Fifteenth Legion revealed his eyes—brilliant, glowing orbs of violet and red light. The psychic glow within them rippled outward, tangible proof of his mastery over the powers of the Honkai—a manifestation of pure psychic might.
"They are a dominion that rules the entire galaxy, and Terra is their sacred capital. My Legion cannot possibly conceal its movements entirely. If the human worlds along the route offer violent resistance—am I authorized to initiate extermination protocols?"
Having fully understood his mission and analyzed the available intelligence, Magnus asked the final question that weighed upon his mind.
"Resistance? Not quite."
Selene's projection shimmered, her scarlet pupils glinting with both authority and an almost playful intrigue. "Perhaps there will be those who do not wish for you to reach Terra—but it will not be him upon the Golden Throne."
"After all," she added with a faint smile, her words heavy with irony, "you are the final hope he once dreamed of but could never grasp."
Meeting Magnus' uncertain gaze, Selene's beautiful face curved into a knowing smirk.
"Even if ten thousand years of worship and psychic fuel have all but eroded his humanity, when 'hope' appears before him again, he will not hesitate. Even if his words were to shatter the minds of every mortal on Terra, he would still command that you be brought before the Golden Throne."
As she finished, Selene's gaze swept across the circle of Astartes Primarchs gathered around Magnus—each standing in a ring of solemn silence—her expression unreadable, but filled with meaning.
"Anticipate it. Seek. Discover. The mysteries of this world are not to be feared or marveled at—they are to be understood. When this crusade ends, all of you will have gained something new."
There stood Perturabo—steel incarnate, a man who seemed less flesh and blood and more a colossal sculpture of iron given life.
Beside him, Mortarion—the pale and gaunt Reaper himself—clad in white armor and a hood, silent and spectral, his presence alone enough to chill the air.
Horus, too, the Wolf of Luna, bore his moon-silver armor and wolf insignia. Not yet a warlord—merely the Shepherd of Wolves.
Then there was Lorgar Aurelian—hands clasped together, eyes shining with fanatic light, staring at Selene with the reverence of a pilgrim before his goddess.
And… where was Alpharius?
At last, Selene caught a glimpse of that telltale hue of emerald and blue—the Hydra coiled behind Budo's imposing form.
Facing the gathered Primarchs—their eyes burning with curiosity, eagerness, doubt, and expectation—Selene offered no further explanation. Instead, she raised her hand.
A stream of iridescent energy spiraled upward from the arc of light upon her palm.
Clang—!
Selene's projection began to fade. From the center of her hand, a violet-red ripple flared outward, and a brilliant cube—radiant as if a flash grenade had ignited in the void—fell to the floor. The cube gleamed with a blinding purple-gold hue.
All those present—Selene's most trusted champions—knew what it was. The crystallized essence of her power. The material manifestation of the Power of Finality.
"Go. Execute."
The cube struck the floor of living orichalcum-soulsteel with a sharp metallic note. As Selene's projection vanished, Magnus raised the purple-gold cube high.
"The Thousand Sons shall not fail their purpose!"
"…"
...
In the pure, unblemished silence of the void, a single violet-red particle appeared within the boundless darkness.
Bzzzz—!
A vast, cosmic visage formed within the starry veil. Wherever she moved, imaginary lightning surged, and the fabric of reality twisted around her presence. The violet-red particles expanded rapidly, devouring light, energy, and matter alike.
Selene gazed downward, her expression calm, assessing this unfamiliar sector of the cosmos.
Her true body had arrived at the last recorded coordinates of the wandering merchant Dubois' disappearance. Beneath her feet, the violet-red curtain of the Honkai Dimension slowly began to spread, steady and unstoppable.
"Found it."
Reaching out, she touched the turbulent eddies of residual energy left behind by overlapping storms—sensing within them both Honkai energy and the countless emotional fluctuations that now erupted across the human Imperium.
"The Warp…"
Selene could feel it—the boundless, roiling dimension beyond the veil, known to mortals as the Warp.
Yes… something akin to the Imaginary Space.
Yet unlike it, this realm reflected the emotions and souls of sentient life. The state of the physical universe manifested here as rippling echoes of thought and passion. Within it, there were no laws of physics—only a shifting reality shaped by the psychic will and emotion of living beings.
Selene did not know what the Warp had once looked like in its purest form. What she felt now was chaos incarnate—an ocean of violence, temptation, filth, and indulgence. Every malignant emotion seemed alive, magnified into tangible nightmares clawing their way into her mind.
'A cesspit of madness,' she thought with disdain. 'I'll purge you all someday and give this so-called Warp a clean sky again.'
Justifying her personal greed with lofty rhetoric, Selene promptly shielded her mind from the psychic toxicity clawing at her psyche.
Honestly, these things played far dirtier tricks than she did. Even she felt a bit outmatched.
Still, the interdependence between realspace and the Warp constrained her actions somewhat. She couldn't just strike recklessly—not without risking the Chaos Gods lashing out in desperation.
Selene didn't want a barren universe stripped of all life and profit.
As for safeguards…
Peeling back the veil of reality, a microscopic vortex began to spiral before her—infinitesimal on her scale yet vast by any mortal standard. "Sanguinius, prepare yourself."
"I understand…"
Sensing Sanguinius' readiness, Selene moved with lightning speed—ripping open the cosmic barrier and wrapping her archangel completely in her Authority of Finality.
She locked the coordinates, anchored the point—teleportation initiated.
Crack—!
Like the sound of shattering glass, the echo rang through the void. Warp energy erupted into a blinding scar of darkness as her immeasurable power sliced through countless daemonic illusions and nightmares. Tendrils of red, green, blue, and violet shrieked in agony as they were torn apart.
In an instant, they melted like snow under flame—burning away into stardust.
Crack-crack-crack—!
At the heart of the swirling, ink-black Warp vortex, a dark fissure opened. Wrapped in a surge of violet-red Honkai particles, Sanguinius shot through like a comet, piercing the veil of the universe. With a final surge of rippling shockwaves, his light vanished into the void.
When all was done, the endless expanse fell silent again—as though nothing had happened.
Yet the disturbance had not gone unnoticed.
"Ah… so you've come."
Catching the malignant gazes now fixed upon her—eyes brimming with malice, rage, seduction, and hunger—Selene tilted her head back slightly and smiled.
"Hey, doghead—what are you staring at? Come to welcome me, have you?"
ROAAAAAR—!!!
"And you, birdman—wipe that sly grin off your face! Hiding behind that green-skinned fatso to stir trouble, are you? You'll be the first I deal with."
Screech—!!!Howl—!!!
"And you—what's with the smirk, freak?"
Hissssss—!!!
...
Eye of Terror — Cadian Gate Defense Zone.
Deep beneath the fortress complex of Kasr Kraf, the Cadian Supreme Command's underground city stretched far below the earth. At its core lay a colossal gate of adamantine and ceramite, beyond which a long corridor led to a vast, sealed chamber.
Within that immense, darkened space, faint green light reflected off metallic stone slabs. On towering brass candelabra, flickering flames cast shadows that danced across cogwork walls. The hum of electricity and the grinding of enormous gears filled the air with a dizzying mechanical rhythm.
A group of Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus—clad in crimson robes adorned with cog-skull sigils—stood alongside Astartes warriors, all gathered around a pulsating violet-red energy source, eyes wide in awe.
It shone like a captive star—a miniature sun glowing in the depths of the earth, radiating streams of purple-gold particle light that stirred the soul.
Veins of violet energy spread outward as countless power cables fed into the crystalline structure.
"Success! This is the Emperor's power—!"
"The overloaded void shield array is reactivating!"
The chamber filled with the rasping, metallic chorus of binharic hymns—an overwhelming surge of synthetic praise to the Machine God. Their mechanical voices rose in religious fervor, merging into a cacophony of static-laced worship.
"The blackstone relics beneath the fortress are resonating in sync! It's a miracle of the Omnissiah—!"
"Praise be to the Omnissiah!"
Then—whoom—
The radiant cube flickered—and went dark.
The cheers and prayers halted instantly. Every Tech-Priest froze like a cog that had jammed mid-turn, their optical lenses widening in panic.
Has the Omnissiah abandoned us? Did we break it? Was that Dubois fellow a fraud?!
A thousand fearful thoughts buzzed through their minds.
Then—Bzzzzt—!
The cube lit up again.
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the chamber.
BZZZZZ—!!!
…Wait. Was it just them—or was it glowing too brightly this time?
—
—
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