-Imperial Palace
Terra. The cradle of humanity, the sacred heart of the Imperium, and the most heavily defended world in the galaxy.
Its skies shimmered with void shields, orbital defense arrays, and the glinting hulls of countless warships. Billions of finest imperial guards protect Terra streets, the mighty phalanx watch over Terra's void space, and the legendary adeptus custodes walks on this planet.
Yet, for all its power, a tense atmosphere blankets its people. The aftershocks of recent battles rippled through its vox-nets and hallowed halls.
Even adepts and hive dwellers whispered of it.
Two figures moved quietly through one of the private landing platforms nestled within the labyrinthine sprawl of the Imperial Palace's inner sanctums. Both wore shinobi matte-black bodysuits reinforced with lightweight body armor. Their masks and weapons were mag-locked at their waists, cloaks bearing the sigil of the Machinist draped over their shoulders.
Their sigil noting that they are not servants of the Imperium, merely guests in its house. However, they showed the appropriate respect.
Jonin Seiji: tall, lean, features sharp and unreadable. At his side, Naon, pale-eyed, silent, his trusted second.
They had been pointed by the Exile command to act as liaisons to the imperium in this most delicate of moments.
Before them loomed the Chamber of the Primarch.
A gate of adamantium, graven with the sigil of Ultramar and the Laurels of Macragge. Twin figures of Ultramarines Honour Guard flanked it, clad in Mark X Gravis Plate, their helms impassive, wrist-mounted bolters held at attention.
'Primaris Marines,' Seiji noted.
Belisarius Cawl's creations using notes from the emperor and using geneseed of all loyal primarch. The project was sanctioned by Guilliman himself before he fell by Fulgrim's blade.
Now, the first of them served within the Primarch's own sanctum.
Naon glanced sideways at Seiji, who offered a subtle nod.
Seiji stepped forward, his voice steady. "We seek audience with the Lord Commander of the Imperium."
The Honour Guards did not move.
Seiji produced a sealed dataslate, its surface marked with a sigil recognized only by the High Lords and Ultramar's command echelon. An encoded cipher glimmered faintly on its surface.
"Our authorization."
One Honour Guard scanned the dataslate. A pause. The other activated his helm-vox, murmuring a terse sequence. A moment later, the great gates hissed open.
Inside, the air was cold. Not physically — but from the oppressive weight of ancient, suffocating power.
The Chamber of the Primarch.
Once a sanctum, now a war room where the fate of humanity was written and erased by the hour.
And there he stood.
Roboute Guilliman, the Avenging Son, Lord Commander of the Imperium, Primarch of the Ultramarines. The most powerful person on the Imperium of men.
The Emperor's Sword hung on the wall behind him.
'Reports said, he has received it after he visit his father's throne room.' Seiji remember reports given to him earlier that day.
But this was no idealized figure from the devotional icons. His face was pale, eyes rimmed with fatigue. Even with superhuman resilience, the unending flood of disaster reports wore at him.
Strategic losses. Civil unrest. Abaddon's resurgence. The human cost of recent victories counted in billions. Even those victory is merely a reprise in a grand conflict on the galaxy.
And always the gnawing doubt of his own capacity to rule his father's Imperium.
He looked up as Seiji and Naon entered. Despite his weariness, his gaze remained sharp.
"Seiji. Naon." His voice still carried the resonance of a warlord. "You're earlier than expected."
Both shinobi bowed slightly — an expression of respect, not subservience. A nuance Guilliman noted, and quietly approved.
Seiji spoke with measured calm.
"We bear final reports from the Exile command. The cleanup operation is complete. Luna has been deemed free of corruption by our sealing corps. The Exile fleet has withdrawn to the system's outer rim, leaving a single destroyer in-system for liaison."
"I will verify it with imperium's own psyker." Then, Guilliman's gaze sharpened. "And the containment?"
"It will hold for at least a century," Naon replied evenly.
Guilliman's expression darkened. "Are you certain? Magnus is no ordinary psyker. He is… formidable. Sealing alone would not suffice."
"True, Lord Primarch," Seiji admitted. "Were we to rely on the seal alone, projections indicated ten years at most. However, the containment is reinforced by layered null fields, stasis casks, and temporal dilation field. Combined, they extend containment integrity to an estimated 112 years. However, those are mere projection."
Guilliman exhaled, tension easing slightly. "And who holds the container?"
"We do, for now. You may discuss its fate with my master. The Machinist arrives shortly."
Guilliman made a mental note to inform Terra control. "I will see he is properly received."
Seiji inclined his head. "He appreciates your courtesy."
A moment passed. Then Guilliman's voice lowered, words weighed with warning.
"Be wary. Certain elements within the Imperium covet your technology… and your power. Others would see you undone."
Seiji allowed himself a faint smile. "You refer to these?" He handed over a dataslate.
Guilliman read it and his eyes widened.
Archmagos Belarian. The Navis Nobilite. Knight houses. The Lord Commander Militant of the High Lords themselves among a long list of other names.
For a heartbeat, shock passed over his face.
Then the Primarch's expression steeled, unreadable.
He looked at them both, remembering archives he read from imperial palace the other day. The primach now understood what the word Shinobi truly meant.
"And how do you intend to address them?" Guilliman asked quietly, returning the dataslate. "These are not mere agitators. They are the Imperium's power."
Seiji's expression didn't shift.
"My master will deal with them, Lord Guilliman. In fact, he wishes to speak with you — if you permit it."
Guilliman gave a slow nod.
Seiji knelt, placing the dataslate on the chamber floor. It emitted a soft pulse of light, then expanded into a full-scale holo-projection. The image of Nusa, the Machinist, materialized.
"Lord Machinist," Seiji and Naon intoned in unison, withdrawing and kneeling as the projection stabilized.