"Why?"
"Why are Necron xenos and Iron Warriors showing up in the Palace zone? Is that traitor Perturabo here too?!"
Dorn's mind flooded with questions. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.
He could not understand how xenos and heretics had slipped through Terra's dense, layered defensive network and appeared so brazenly inside the Imperial Palace, the very heart of the Throneworld.
A sense of crisis he had never felt before crashed down on him, followed by fear and rage he could not suppress.
The Praetorian of Terra did not even dare dwell on the most horrifying possibility.
What if the Savior himself had wolfish ambition, and had deliberately brought xenos and heretics into the Palace?
That would be another Horus Heresy, only worse.
For ten thousand years, the Palace line had never been breached, not by traitor primarchs, not even when daemons spilled onto Terra during the Great Rift.
At most, xenos and heretics could reach the Eternity Gate.
But this time, the Savior held the planet's defenses in his hands. He had delivered the enemy into Terra's interior, closer to the Emperor than ever before.
The Palace, and the Golden Throne, would face the most terrifying crisis in all of history.
"If rebellion truly breaks out, how many Imperial forces will obey the Savior-traitor's orders, and how many will oppose him and defend the Emperor?"
"Do we loyalists still have any hope of victory?!"
Dorn's wall-like body trembled as he forced himself to analyze everything he knew.
The Necrons were approaching the Palace.
Smoke-belching Iron Warriors Titans were striding toward it, using their machines to tear at the walls.
Dorn made his decision at once.
He did not know why the Palace had not responded yet. Perhaps the defense systems had been deceived, or perhaps something was obstructing them.
But right now, the only ones he could trust were the Imperial Fists and the Adeptus Custodes.
Humm.
In the name of the gene-father, Dorn ordered the Imperial Fists to rush to the Palace immediately and take up its defense.
Beyond that, he used an ancient communications device to broadcast a highest-alert frequency across Terra, and even farther beyond.
Even after ten thousand years, any warrior who intercepted and decoded that frequency would understand its meaning.
The Emperor was in danger.
There were too many strange, unexplainable details in the current situation, but regardless of his guesses, regardless of whether this was a misunderstanding, he could not gamble on being right.
He could not gamble even with a one-in-ten-thousand chance.
A single wrong call would become an unrecoverable catastrophe. His father and the Imperium would plunge into an endless abyss.
He had to move now, and plan for the worst.
"The only option is to reach the Golden Throne as fast as possible, confirm the situation there, and then take command of the Palace defense system…"
Dorn intended to organize the defense personally, to resist the threat of xenos and heretical rebellion.
He still retained control permissions for most of the Palace fortifications.
Even if the Savior truly rebelled, even if he controlled Terra's defenses and held the advantage in manpower, it was not certain Dorn would lose.
The Imperial Palace was vast, like a small continent.
It was the Emperor's palace and an unbreakable bastion, spanning multiple regions across the Himalazian range.
Outer wards, inner wards, all bristled with defensive positions and weapon platforms.
Below, it delved toward the planet's core. Vaults, corridors, redoubts, plazas, uncountable. Entire fortified cities formed within it around the garrison forces stationed there.
And then there was the final weapon of all, the Adeptus Custodes.
This was a fortress built in the Imperium's golden age, with the resources of countless civilized worlds and unimaginable spans of time piled into it.
It was also the most tightly guarded place in human history.
As one of the Palace's builders and the Imperium's master of defense, Dorn naturally understood just how solid its internal defensive architecture truly was.
The Palace was protected by an ancient relic void shield array called the Aegis. It was a multi-layer, self-repairing void web that covered the entire Palace.
In certain core zones, the Aegis could stop any object above half a gram moving faster than two meters per second from penetrating. In theory, it could blunt any orbital bombardment.
Beyond that were countless other defensive systems.
By the original design objective, even if Terra itself was annihilated by extinction-grade weapons and the planet's sphere cracked apart, the Palace could maintain structural integrity and continue holding on within the surviving landmasses.
Under those conditions, even if the Savior controlled all of Terra's surface and it fell, the Palace could still endure for a long time.
Long enough for relief to arrive.
"Hope still exists. Victory will always belong to the loyal."
Dorn repeated it silently.
Once the highest-alert signal went out, loyal men would come to answer the call.
Even in the worst case, the sons of the Imperial Fists would come.
They were the Imperium's most reliable, most unyielding wall.
Dorn had made up his mind.
He would hold the Throne, buy time with everything he had, and seize even the faintest hope in this desperate situation.
He would find the chance to turn the table.
Even if he failed, he would fall before the Throne fell.
Dorn surged forward and sprinted toward a sector like an unstoppable beast.
He chose the fastest route to the Palace's fortification control core, and then onward to the Golden Throne.
That was the only way to reclaim overwhelming force.
Once the Vigilant entered the Palace, he could rely on primarch strength and knowledge of the terrain to reach the control core.
Even the Custodes would struggle to stop him.
If he reclaimed command of the fortifications he had once overseen, he could use refined expertise to bring the weapon platforms to bear.
He would deliver annihilating strikes against any enemy outside the Golden Throne Hall, anywhere within the Palace's fire coverage.
He was the Emperor's last defender, the wall and bastion.
…
Not long before.
The Imperial Palace, the holy site of the Gate of Scrutiny.
This was an ancient gate tens of meters tall, leading into the Palace's inner sanctums. Beyond it lay the Emperor's own residence.
From here, one could look down over the Palace's sweeping, magnificent scenery.
"Ah, what a grand and sacred sight. We humans created a glorious civilization!"
Zhabok and the other high-ranking Necron entities gazed at the beautiful view and could not stop sighing with emotion.
"Imitate the Emperor, and one may die without regret," they murmured, then knelt and worshiped toward the direction of the Golden Throne.
These subjects of the Kalozasa Dynasty who claimed to be human performed worship at every holy site, to prove their devotion.
The Custodes commander standing nearby watched the scene and felt his skull buzzing.
These xenos opened their mouths and recited aphorisms from the Emperor's holy words and passages from Ecclesiarchy scripture.
Many fanatical human pilgrims did not even have that level of fluency.
Too loyal.
Of course, this Custodes veteran had reservations about xenos entering the Palace, but he still carried out the order.
Whatever the Savior, the Emperor of the Imperium, did and whatever commands he gave, he had his reasons.
They were loyal, and they were for the good of the Imperium and the Emperor.
His Majesty had proven his correctness and authority through countless examples, like truth made flesh.
So no one dared question him.
Eden stood on the wall by the Gate of Scrutiny, with the Palace's magnificent vista spread out before him, but he had no mind to appreciate it.
He was staring at surveillance footage and logs sent by the Machine-Goddess, his daughter Webby, brows tightly knit.
Earlier, Webby had detected anomalies in the monitoring data. She had flagged them and pulled every relevant clip.
Because this concerned the security of Holy Terra, she reported it immediately to the Savior, her bargain-bin adoptive father.
The situation was troublesome.
That unknown individual had used a forbidden relic and specialized methods to hide his face and build.
Even the surveillance images only showed a blurred silhouette after deep reprocessing.
"Hm?"
Eden frowned, confused.
"What is this guy doing, wriggling around in the spaceport?"
In the footage, the big dope was creeping through a corridor, clearly trying to infiltrate. He even curled into corners and squirmed to avoid sightlines.
Then Eden saw more clips.
The big dope kneeling before the Savior's icon aboard the pilgrim ship, weeping in a way that was oddly moving.
The big dope sneaking around on Terra, riding transit without paying and clinging to a mag-rail.
The big dope sweating buckets while poking and fiddling at a stone-slab gate.
A whole series of baffling behaviors.
What truly alarmed Eden was the target.
After reaching Terra's surface, the big dope repeatedly vanished from coverage. But based on the trail of sightings, his destination was very likely the Imperial Palace in the Himalazians.
He looked like a dangerous actor.
Was he an assassin or spy from xenos or heretics?
Surely he was not planning to walk into the Palace alone and flip the Throneworld's table.
"Father, I found information on the intruder."
Webby's anime-style avatar popped up on the screen, made an adorable gesture, then sent another file.
It contained the big dope's entire registration profile and movement records within the new Imperium's psychic network. Extremely detailed.
"Dorn, abhuman from the frontier, not very bright, approximately equivalent to an eight-year-old Imperial child…"
"This is a forged identity, right?"
Eden stared at the file, thinking, especially sensitive to the name "Dorn."
There were countless beings in the Imperium named Dorn, but one was very special.
The lost legendary primarch of the Imperium.
Rogal Dorn.
Eden inhaled slowly.
"Don't tell me that ultra-stubborn brick finally crawled back to Terra, trying to sneak into the Palace to see the old man on the Throne."
It was understandable.
The Imperium had changed drastically. A new Emperor had even appeared.
If Eden were a returned primarch, he would not reveal himself immediately either. He would first confirm the situation with the Emperor, to see whether this so-called new Emperor was truly loyal.
He would leave himself room to maneuver.
But for Eden, this was a headache.
The Emperor had not awakened yet. Outside the Palace were the Iron Warriors in massive numbers, and Necrons on pilgrimage besides.
If the two sides ran into each other, they would absolutely throw hands.
"Father, based on analysis of residual Imperial-era data, the big dope named Dorn has an eighty percent chance of being Primarch Rogal Dorn in disguise."
Webby was becoming more and more human. She even put a cyber pair of gold-rim glasses on herself while rapidly pulling additional datasets for analysis.
She added a warning.
"If this 'Dorn' big dope is a primarch, then given his methods, he is extremely likely to have already approached the Palace. His probable zones are…"
On the floating map projection, Webby highlighted multiple sectors.
Those were the places Dorn was most likely to appear.
As Eden listened, he sent the surveillance clips to two of his primarch brothers, Leon and the Khan.
It was a three-man private group chat. Guilliman and Perturabo were not included. Eden had several such private chats.
Good-brother Savior:
"Brothers.
"Take a look. Is this Dorn? Keep it secret. Do not let Perturabo see.
"Reply fast."
It had been roughly ten thousand years since Rogal Dorn last appeared. The old Imperium's archival quality was abysmal. The relevant data was heavily degraded and distorted.
Not to mention the way religious statuary beautified his image.
Even the Imperial Fists' own statues might not resemble the real Dorn.
Eden was also judging by his own case.
His own icons had been beautified by at least eighty percent. From any angle, he was flawless.
Leon and the Khan were far away, near the Pariah Nexus. They might not respond to the private chat quickly.
But given the situation, whether the big dope was Dorn or not, Eden had to treat him as Dorn.
Better to overreact than make an irreversible mistake.
On matters like this, you respond hard.
Even if it costs something, you stamp out the possibility of being wrong, because the price of a wrong call might be unpayable.
Eden drew a slow breath. Tension crept into his posture.
He issued orders to Webby:
"Lock down the information immediately. Especially block all related footage from Perturabo and any zones under his access."
"Do not let him see anything connected to these recordings."
"Also, intercept any signals sent by Iron Warriors comms devices, and warn them they are temporarily forbidden to leak anything."
Until Eden dealt with Dorn, he could not let that tsundere disaster, Perturabo, get involved.
Otherwise, the situation would escalate.
If the Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists started fighting on Terra, it would turn into a complete circus.
Even if Eden could forcibly stop it in the end, people would die.
Eden finished speaking, then turned toward Zhabok, the Phaeron of the Kalozasa Dynasty.
His tone turned hard.
"Withdraw all Kalozasa Dynasty remnants to this location."
"No matter what happens next, you are not to leave, and you are not to engage in any armed conflict."
If these living-metal shells got dragged into this, it would get even worse.
After that, Eden, as gene-father and adoptive father, issued an emergency order to certain Imperial Fists units.
He told them to rush to the Palace.
Eden still did not know Dorn's attitude, and it was even harder to contact him directly.
The Imperial Fists, Dorn's sons, were the best buffer.
They could serve as a bridge and establish a line of communication between the two sides.
That was Rogal Dorn, the ultra-stubborn primarch, the kind who had beef with half the primarchs, and very possibly had awakened warp-adjacent nature.
He was among the strongest warriors in the galaxy.
More importantly, this was the Imperial Palace.
Dorn was a master of defense and one of the Palace's builders.
Who knew what back doors or retained permissions he had left behind.
If they fought and started dragging weapon platforms into it, the losses would be catastrophic.
"Hah."
"If I'd let Webby take over the Palace in the first place, this would be so much less trouble."
Eden sighed.
He had never built the Machine-Goddess engine core inside the Palace, mainly out of consideration for the Emperor's feelings.
Eden already controlled the Imperium. Fully controlling the old man's own palace as well would be… impolite.
It was basically like mounting cameras and gun barrels against the Emperor's head.
Even if the Emperor trusted him, it still was not a good look.
Besides, some Custodes elders were stubborn. They refused to hand over all defensive authority. They insisted that veteran Custodians guard key zones and the Golden Throne personally.
Meaning Eden could command them, but he could not fully insert himself into the Palace's internal guard arrangements.
That was the Custodes' last remaining mission toward the Emperor.
Given those factors, Eden had not forced the Machine-Goddess issue.
But he had decided that after this incident, he would push it through.
He would station the Machine-Goddess to guard the Palace's outer wards, and unify the new Imperium's defense architecture as much as possible.
So future surprises would not blindside him.
Eden led a squad of Custodes elites and hurried toward the flight platform by the Gate of Scrutiny.
The monitoring net continued searching for Dorn's trail, trying to pinpoint his location.
Eden only hoped that ultra-stubborn brick would arrive a little later, so he would not run into the Iron Warriors or the Necron pilgrims.
In short, the best option now was to build an interception web without exposing Dorn's identity.
Stop him outside the Palace and resolve the issue properly.
If Dorn was provoked and entered the Palace, he would be in his element. Worse, he might seize control of weapon platforms and trigger a large-scale firefight.
"This Himalazian range is huge. There's no way they collide by pure bad luck, right?" Eden boarded a luxurious dark-gold assault craft and let out a long sigh.
The words had barely left his mouth when the situation flipped.
Rumble.
A faint, distant roar rolled in from outside the Palace perimeter.
Eden went numb.
If the sound reached even here, it meant the Iron Warriors had already engaged the intruder, and it was very likely tied to Dorn.
Ultra-stubborn brick had appeared in the most sensitive possible zone.
That was extremely dangerous.
The Iron Warriors worksite involved hazardous warp-adjacent technology. If key structures were damaged in a violent fight, it could tear open a spatial rupture and invite a large-scale daemonic invasion.
It would be like spawning monsters right at the Palace gate, or even inside the Palace.
Chaos would be laughing itself sick.
Who would not.
Whoosh.
In the rising tension, the luxurious dark-gold assault craft became a streak and shot toward the Palace perimeter.
Inside the cabin, Eden issued emergency orders as the rumbling grew louder still.
He could even feel the swelling pulse of Chaos-tainted energy pressing at the edge of realspace.
(End of Chapter)
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