Half a day earlier.
Holy Terra – Orbital Defense Zone – Mountain Fortress
The Phalanx, a massive triangular space fortress the size of an asteroid, floated in high orbit above Terra. Adorned with towering spires and fortified with an array of weapons and sensor domes, it was nearly geosynchronous with the distant orbital layer of Holy Terra.
Golden feather-like armor plating covered its surface, and every angle bristled with torpedo tubes and lance batteries—more than any other Imperial bastion.
The vessel bore scars of countless campaigns and displayed numerous battle honors.
This was the mobile fortress-monastery of the Imperial Fists, akin to a floating hive city in space—on par with an Aeldari Craftworld.
During the Great Crusade and the Horus Heresy, the Phalanx cast its shadow over countless worlds, the wrath of the Imperial Fists following closely behind.
Since then, it had remained in orbit around the Sol System like an ever-vigilant golden sentinel, guarding the Throneworld.
For ten thousand years, the Phalanx and the Sol Defense Fleet had operated independently of any centralized command, forming an impenetrable web of orbital defenses.
They safeguarded the Solar System, denying access to any unauthorized fleet that could pose a threat to Holy Terra.
None had ever broken through this barrier.
It was an impregnable wall in space.
Until now.
The Savior's fleet approached brazenly—no supply flotilla, but a true battlefleet.
They ignored all warnings and threats.
From the observation tower:
"They've ignored protocol. We must execute a deterrent strike immediately!"
A captain of the Imperial Fists, resolute in tone, declared.
As a son of Rogal Dorn, he was committed to duty, ready to fire upon any unauthorized force to preserve the honor of the Chapter.
"No! Hold your fire!"
The commander of the Solar Defense Fleet wiped the sweat from his brow and quickly restrained him. "I've already reported the situation. The Master of the Phalanx and the High Admiral are on their way. They'll handle this!"
He watched as the radar began glowing crimson—an unmistakable sign of mass weapons lock.
The commander gazed toward the Savior's fleet.
Though small in number, they were more than capable of being eliminated by the Phalanx and Sol Fleet. But the true danger lay beyond.
What truly froze the blood of all present was what followed that fleet.
In the void beyond, arranged by pinpoint star-like markers, was the Savior's face—formed from the lights of countless mechanical ark-ships and war vessels.
It radiated overwhelming majesty.
More fleets were emerging through the Noctis Labyrinth's Webway gates.
They were sealing off the Solar System.
"The Mechanicus lunatics have emptied Mars itself?!"
The commander shuddered, memories surfacing of the Martian Schism decades ago. But this—this was far greater in scale.
In reality, it wasn't just the Mechanicus. Numerous fleets from the Savior's domain and its vassals had arrived.
Under the guise of attending a celebration, they had come to honor the Primarch of Hope.
This was Eden's insurance plan. With only his own fleet, he could never pressure Holy Terra—nor force decisive military presence onto the Throneworld.
But now, facing the obstinate High Lords, he had made his decision:
To conquer Holy Terra by force.
"Cease all deterrent measures immediately!"
The Phalanx's Master and the High Admiral of the Solar Fleet arrived in haste, ordering a full stand-down to prevent any unnecessary conflict.
It would be meaningless.
They couldn't stop such overwhelming military might—and neither wanted to provoke the tech-priests, lunatics armed to the teeth.
Finally, all present realized just how terrifying the Savior's influence truly was. Not even the Fabricator-General of Mars could summon such Mechanicus strength.
Those tech-priests rarely bowed to any authority.
The Master of the Phalanx initiated contact with the Savior's fleet via vox-link.
Their representative calmly explained they wished to deliver supplies to the Savior. Unquestionably, this meant contraband or orbital weaponry.
"The Savior is loyal to the Emperor. His goal is to purge heresy, not to harm Holy Terra."
The commander of the Redemption Fleet presented authorization documents and a strategic plan.
The Master of the Phalanx fell into heavy silence.
Torn internally, yet helpless.
Eventually, this son of Dorn gave his answer:
"Deactivate the weapon protocols. Let the Savior's escort fleet pass…"
The commander of the Redemption Fleet breathed a sigh of relief and smiled:
"You've made the right decision. Holy Terra will soon witness a brighter future."
"Please pass a message to Lord Savior—the Solar Defense Fleet will always remain loyal to the Emperor and shall safeguard Holy Terra with our lives."
The High Admiral seized the moment to declare loyalty.
He knew the Imperium's power structure was about to change forever. Early declarations might be the difference between survival and annihilation.
Soon, the Savior's fleet sailed unimpeded into Terra's near-orbit.
Meanwhile, the Phalanx summoned reinforcements to prepare for any unexpected developments.
…
At the same time—
The Writ of Judgment issued by the Savior shook Holy Terra to its core.
If previous martial law campaigns were political posturing—this was outright war.
The Savior now disregarded the authority of the Senatorum Imperialis—the apex of Imperial governance—and moved to personally eliminate the High Lords.
An unprecedented act.
It involved six of the Imperium's highest-ranking officials and affected thousands of civilised worlds and countless factions.
"Is that an orbital strike?!"
Citizens watched the fiery trails descending from the sky, filled with dread.
"That's impossible. The orbital defense grid would never allow that—not even for the Custodes or the Lord Regent."
"Is that executioner really willing to kill millions of Terrans?!"
"How dare he?!"
...
Inside the Administratum:
Overletta, Minister of Internal Affairs, trembled in fear.
"Contact the Savior now! We'll accept his demands!"
"All sectors on alert! Destroy anything that enters the anti-air zone!"
Commanders screamed orders. Void shield outputs surged to max capacity.
They hoped to repel this terrifying assault.
Escape?
The most foolish option.
This was already one of the safest places in the galaxy.
If Holy Terra's fortress couldn't stop the Primarch of Hope, nowhere could.
But as the fire streaks reached Terra's surface—
There was no impact.
No bombardment.
They were not orbital strikes.
"Hahahaha! He doesn't dare! The Primarch doesn't dare bombard Terra!"
Overletta burst into hysterical laughter.
The Savior cared too much for the lives of Terra's citizens to unleash lethal force.
He saw hope.
Survival.
More armed forces surged from fortresses.
They rushed to key positions to deploy doomsday weapons—bargaining chips for their lives.
Holy Terra erupted in fire and chaos.
Air raid sirens blared.
Internal troops and emergency forces helped evacuate citizens from conflict zones.
"Where is the Savior now?!"
Some High Lords searched for Eden's location—hoping to negotiate. Terra couldn't take much more.
The longer this dragged on, the worse the damage.
Then came word:
The Savior is en route to the Senatorum Imperialis.
...
Outer Perimeter – Senatorum Imperialis
Eden, flanked by Thunder Warriors, advanced toward the core structure—second in political power only to the Golden Throne itself.
For millennia, the High Lords issued edicts and laws here that governed the entire Imperium.
Whoever controlled this building held ultimate authority.
Even the Custodes could be influenced through it.
It was here the previous Fabricator-General vetoed the removal of the Restriction Edict—and here the decision was eventually passed—granting the Custodes the right to leave Terra for Imperial campaigns.
Such was the power of law.
All military might ultimately served to legitimize one's claim.
Eden's goal was clear: enter the Senatorum, summon the High Lords, and use that authority to command the Inquisition, Assassinorum, and Astra Telepathica.
To claim the throne of power itself.
But entry was not so easy.
The entrance was heavily defended, its void shields and weapon arrays rivaling any fortress on Terra.
Only the Lion's Gate defensive bastion surpassed it.
"Lord Primarch, please halt. Only High Lords may enter the Senatorum."
The guard commander swallowed hard but stood firm.
This was sacred ground. No one outside the High Lords could enter.
Allowing others in would constitute a threat to the Imperium itself.
Eden narrowed his eyes.
His gaze swept across the fortress's defenses.
He couldn't force entry—not without massive cost.
"We act under ancient edict. Not even the Lord Regent or the High Lords themselves may command us."
The commander was firm. "It is our sacred duty!"
"I understand…"
Eden's voice turned cold. "But for the future of humanity and the Imperium—I must enter."
"I will break through. Prepare yourselves."
Just as he was about to give the order—
A new transmission came through.
It was a group call from the United Council of Light.
Overletta, barely suppressing panic, pleaded:
"Lord Savior, we must speak. We can't let Terra fall into greater chaos. We've both sacrificed for the Imperium—please grant us a peaceful resolution."
"Yes, Lord Savior,"
The Imperial Navy Admiral chimed in. "We're all loyal to the Emperor. There's no need for mutual destruction. That would only harm the Imperium."
"You're the bastard who had your fleet pose as xenos pirates and attacked my logistics convoy, aren't you?"
Eden's voice was ice.
"You cost me two ships."
The Admiral's face went pale. That ambush had nearly destroyed his entire fleet, while only two Savior ships were lost.
Even now, he struggled to control what remained of the Navy.
He swallowed.
"That… was a misunderstanding. I apologize—and offer full reparations."
"I reject apologies from heretical traitors."
Eden snapped. "Come out and face judgment now—or perish completely."
"By the Emperor..."
A second voice broke in, its tone faintly distorted and unclear.
"Lord Savior, I beg you to calm down."
"Who are you?!" Eden roared.
That shout carried terrifying authority, shaking the speaker to their core. The voice immediately shrank, hesitant and quivering.
"I—I am the Patriarch of the Navis Nobilite… We are like you, deeply concerned for the Imperium's well-being—"
"You abominable traitors are the threat!"
Eden nearly laughed in fury. Worried about the Imperium's safety? Were they referring to the way they had incited strikes on Terra and bombed vital Imperial infrastructure?
Suppressing his rage, he growled:
"Stay in your damn bunker. I'm about to drive a Titan through your skulls and squash your brains out!"
"A Titan…? What Titan?!"
The Patriarch's voice cracked with panic. "Lord Savior, wait, please let me expla—"
Click.
Eden cut the channel.
At that moment, a new signal broke through—gruff, boisterous, and poorly filtered.
"Communications are crap here... Emperor damn it—Lord Savior!"
Arye, trying his best to suppress his roughness, reported in:
"The Redemption Titan Armored Group of the Storm Group Army is fully mobilized. Shall we deploy them into the field?"
"Deploy them. I'm in a hurry," Eden ordered.
These past few days, aside from sweeping through Holy Terra, Eden had mainly been waiting for his massive armored formations to arrive.
The Titans were the most suitable tools for breaching the capital's defenses.
Because Terra's systems wouldn't tolerate orbital strikes without taking out the Phalanx, the defense fleet, and the Lion's Gate Spaceport, Eden had instead chosen a more "acceptable" method: Titan deployment.
Titans had previously entered Holy Terra before—Custodes themselves maintained some specialized Titan units.
But even then, they underestimated the Savior's audacity.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—
Dozens of previously landed mechanical pods launched transmission-enabled warheads into the skies, raining down like a meteor shower.
Several warheads impacted around Eden's position. Transmission beacons sprang from their shells, emitting spears of light into the heavens.
And then—
DOOM.
Colossal war machines stepped through the portals. The ground quaked with every step.
Since the Horus Heresy, Titans had returned to the Throneworld.
As the Anthem of the Savior echoed across the sky—
Eight Imperator-class Titans emerged, overshadowing the skies around the Senatorum Imperialis.
At the center stood a dark-gold Redemption Titan, massive beyond belief. Inlaid in its chest was a slab-like artifact of ancient forbidden origin—recovered from the warp—that could disrupt forcefield operations.
Eden ascended into the air on a wave of psychic energy and landed atop the shoulder of the central Titan, overlooking the Senatorum's defensive lines.
At that moment, all eyes locked onto the towering god-machines. The war-spirit pressure they emitted crushed the air around them.
"Form up—Push through!" Eden ordered.
The other shield-type Redemption Titans closed ranks around the dark-gold one, activating layered void shields and specialized defensive fields.
Zzzzzap—!
A beam of dark green energy burst from the chest of the lead Titan, piercing a far-off forcefield node. Electrical arcs flickered violently as the structure collapsed.
And with that, the Titan formation advanced into the field's perimeter—toward the Senatorum Imperialis.
The garrison commander struggled to stay upright amid the shaking ground. Staring up at the monolithic mechanical feet passing overhead, his legs nearly gave out.
Yet he held firm despite the fear and shouted:
"Initiate Interception Protocol! Stop them!"
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
Artillery thundered.
Super-heavy shells flew toward the Titans—but were blocked by the shield-Titans surrounding Eden.
The resulting flashes and arcing plasma turned the sky into a strobe-like frenzy, as though light itself danced with the Redemption Titans.
The earth shook. Many could barely stand.
Yet the Titans did not attack—they pressed forward at full speed, each step crossing 10–20 meters.
Their mission: escort the Primarch through enemy lines to the Senatorum.
"Hssshh—That's some insane firepower."
Even with his body protected by void and psychic shields, Eden was bombarded with explosions and arc lightning from all sides.
He could barely feel his limbs anymore.
At this density, not even rats or flies could infiltrate the Senatorum on foot.
But Eden wasn't walking.
He was driving a Titan through it.
A rare achievement—even for a Primarch.
If he hadn't secured the spaceports and hive spires, deployment would've been impossible. He would have needed to fight through each line of defense.
This offered a glimpse of how brutal the Heresy-era warfare must have been.
Back then, the Imperium had a lot of Titans.
BOOM.
One Redemption Titan's leg was destroyed—it crashed to the ground.
Another followed shortly after.
However, the Senatorum defenses did not continue firing—they focused all their batteries on the remaining Titans.
They were executing a "non-lethal" Interception Protocol.
In truth, it might've been a silent agreement between Eden and the garrison commander.
After all, Eden never ordered his Titans to retaliate.
One after another, Redemption Titans fell. The rest immediately took their place.
"Just a little farther—!"
Eden stared ahead toward the ancient amphitheater, heart pounding.
Finally, as one more Titan collapsed to cover him, the fire gradually ceased.
No more weapons fired.
The Savior had breached the Senatorum's zone. Not even the garrison could stop him now.
"We failed to intercept…"
The commander slumped in his trench, overcome by mixed emotions.
Part of him supported the Savior.
Part of him had to follow orders.
Now, all of it was over.
He braced for punishment. He had failed to protect the Imperium's most sacred institution.
Bzzzzt.
A flickering voice cut through his vox:
"Commander... I appreciate your loyalty. You will be rewarded."
Hearing such words from a Primarch, the commander straightened, eyes full of reverence.
But a second later—
"By the Emperor…!"
He watched in horror as the giant foot of the dark-gold Titan stumbled and crushed part of the Senatorum wall.
That ancient building—where the Emperor and his sons once deliberated, untouched even during the Heresy—had just lost a section of its holy masonry.
In that moment, the commander felt like a criminal.
"Damn. That wall's harder than I expected…"
Eden eyed the crumbled ruins, a hint of guilt flickering in his chest.
"Lord Savior... Do we… still go in?" asked a nervous crew member.
Even they were worried. This might cost them their pay and earn them disciplinary review.
Even their honorary piloting credentials might get questioned.
"It's fine. That wall was tall. Keep going."
Eden waved it off and gave the order.
They had come this far.
No turning back now.
BOOM—BOOM—CRUNCH.
More of the ancient Senatorum collapsed.
The dark-gold Titan led two others as they climbed over the ruins into the central arena of the amphitheater.
"Yo, this spot's pretty comfy."
Eden leapt from the Titan's shoulder and dropped into the center of the arena, finding an ancient stone throne—the perfect fit for his size.
So comfortable.
What he didn't know was:
This was the Emperor's own throne—an artifact of the Old Roman Senate, used by the Master of Mankind Himself to receive reports from His Primarchs.
Not even Roboute Guilliman, now Lord Regent and High Chancellor, had dared to sit in it.
He always used the lower seats.
But Eden, unaware, had just plopped down with a casual air.
Behind him stood three Redemption Titans—one large, two smaller—forming a triangular formation, exuding dreadful authority.
He gazed at the sky above Terra.
More and more Titans and Knight suits descended.
The Titan Host had arrived.
At least 88 Imperator-class units, plus countless others.
More than enough to raze Holy Terra to the bedrock.
From one perspective, this was the greatest crisis the Throneworld had ever faced—surpassing even the Siege of Terra.
Even the entire Custodes order wouldn't survive an assault like this.
Eden squinted and broadcast a message to the High Lords:
"All High Lords still loyal to the Emperor are to report to the Senatorum immediately to discuss the purge of heretics and traitors within the Imperium."
He was confident.
Those not already branded as traitors would come.
Refusal would imply disloyalty.
"Oh, right—I almost forgot about Old Guilliman."
Eden smacked his forehead, shifted into a more relaxed pose, and sent out another vox message:
"Old G, the situation's stabilized. Come to the Senatorum—I need you here to help settle Imperial affairs!"
(End of Chapter)
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