After eliminating Julius, the leading warlord, the Emperor immediately led his forces to sweep up the remaining scattered enemies in the region.
It took several hours before the battlefield finally returned to silence.
Standing at the edge of a massive fissure carved into the ground, Malcador glanced at the Emperor's freshly bandaged right hand and asked:
"Is your hand all right?"
The Emperor looked toward the Thunder Warriors who were collecting the bodies of their fallen comrades. He shook his head lightly and replied:
"It's nothing serious. It will heal in a few days."
As a high-level psyker, Julius' desperate counterattack had naturally left injuries on both the Emperor and Malcador.
The bones in the Emperor's right arm had been shattered by nearly eighty-five percent.
For an ordinary human, such damage would mean permanent disability.
But for the Emperor, while inconvenient, it was far from severe. A few days of purging the lingering psychic energy within the wound would be enough.
If necessary, he could even sever the entire arm and regrow a new one within a month.
Once he confirmed the Emperor's injuries were not significant, Malcador nodded—clearly relieved. With genuine satisfaction, he reported the results he had compiled:
"Almost all major warlord factions in this region perished in this campaign. After a few years of consolidation—digesting our gains and reorganizing our strength—we should possess enough power to unify the entirety of Terra in one decisive effort!"
Although the progress was slower than originally planned, Malcador still felt deeply pleased.
But while he allowed himself this joy, the Emperor remained calm.
Watching the Thunder Warriors repair their equipment, the Emperor spoke without looking back:
"Good. Soon, I will travel to Mars and Luna to lay the groundwork for the Great Crusade…And with the resources gained from this victory, we can finally accelerate the Astartes Project."
Hearing this, Malcador stiffened slightly and glanced toward the Thunder Warriors celebrating their hard-fought victory. A sigh escaped him:
"…Yes."
As the Emperor's most trusted confidant, he understood perfectly:
to the Emperor, the Thunder Warriors were always temporary—emergency creations, meant to be used and eventually replaced.
Once their purpose ended, so would their place in history.
In this matter, Malcador possessed more humanity than the Emperor. A weight of guilt settled in his heart.
---
Meanwhile, still on the battlefield, Arik Taranis searched for survivors.
While rummaging through scattered debris, he suddenly noticed a strange piece of flesh—about a centimeter in size, with tiny eye-like structures—crawling slowly across the ground.
Instinctively disgusted, Arik raised his hand to evaporate it with a blast of searing psychic lightning—
—but the moment the light formed in his palm, the creature vanished.
One instant it had been there.
The next, it was gone—without a trace.
No matter how much he searched, it was nowhere to be found.
Puzzled, he eventually gave up, wondering whether he had simply imagined it…
---
**Several decades later —
The Himalayas**
Deep within a hidden laboratory, the Emperor stood before twenty incubation pods arranged in perfect order.
Even he could not suppress a faint smile.
Inside those pods lay the pinnacle of his biological mastery.
He named them—
the Primarchs.
As superhuman artificial beings, much of their genetic and spiritual makeup came directly from the Emperor himself.
But their unique attributes were forged from Warp-derived materials and forbidden knowledge of Chaos.
These elements elevated them far beyond humanity—granting strength, charisma, intellect, and potential worthy of being called demigods.
Even the proud Aeldari could not ignore such prodigious talent.
The Emperor never intended for the Primarchs to serve merely as soldiers.
In his grand design, each would lead a Legion and become one of the cornerstones of humanity's rebirth—his future generals, advisers, and trusted lieutenants.
They would enable the coming Golden Age to unfold smoothly.
By this time, not only were the infant Primarchs developing steadily, but the enhanced successors to the Thunder Warriors—the Space Marines (Astartes)—had reached technological maturity.
Compared to the unstable and short-lived Thunder Warriors, the Astartes possessed:
Longevity — lifespans potentially reaching tens of thousands of years
Strength — slightly below Thunder Warriors, but far more reliable
Stability — carefully selected candidates with superior mental resilience
Lower cost and failure rate — easier to produce in sustainable numbers
Furthermore, through extensive searching, the Emperor had located descendants of the Golden Age "Perpetual Humans"—the legendary Ten Thousand, known in this era as the Custodians.
Although their Golden Age genetic code had degraded over millennia, traces still endured.
By activating those dormant genetic markers, the Emperor created the third and most elite human super-soldier caste:
The Custodian Guard.
While not equal to the absolute peak of the Golden Age, they surpassed both Thunder Warriors and Astartes in every measurable aspect.
If not for the difficulty and strict requirements of their creation, the Custodians would have rendered the other warrior types obsolete.
As usual, the Emperor inspected each Primarch's incubation chamber one more time.
Seeing that everything remained stable, he finally left the laboratory to attend to the many duties awaiting him.
....
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