Humans are always constrained by the difficulties of reality, and thus, imagination arises.
Humans are always constrained by the limits of imagination, and thus, exploration arises.
Humans are always constrained by the slowness of exploration, and thus, shortcuts arise.
And when countless shortcuts crisscross through the deep forest, rumors of wrong paths and getting lost will breed, and malicious beings will lie in ambush there, waiting for yet another arrogant and confident traveler who seeks to solve the difficulties of reality by taking a shortcut.
And the ultimate embodiment of such a dark place is the boundless ocean within the void, known as the Warp.
It is born from the fantasies of all things, yet it, in turn, devours the living suffering of all things, forging its terrible reputation among countless civilizations and races.
But there are always new fools who question this. They presumptuously believe themselves to be great talents destined to forge new eras, disdainful of the history written with the endless blood and wails of their predecessors, fully convinced that they will be the ones to overturn all history and theory and start anew.
For example…
"Do not trust time and space, my children."
"Time, space, dimensions, and even the fundamental principles composed of geometry and numbers are utterly invalid in the Vast Ocean. And precisely because of this, it has become the greatest and most abundant repository of knowledge, for you will never truly know what treasures might be buried in the next cavern. It might hail from an ancient era before the dawn of any civilization, or perhaps a fleeting re-creation of a future moment appearing before your eyes."
Magnus's projection was radiant, like a newly born star, recklessly flaunting its light and heat.
The Primarch was like a king taking a nap in the Mist Garden of his palace, having just received an audience with his subjects. He casually kneaded immense power, letting it spread out around him.
Magnus's will testified to his words: on the invisible scroll he unfurled, the Thousand Sons saw things they had never imagined. Their perspective was like that of gods looking down on the world from the clouds. The Astartes witnessed everything from the beginning of desolation, until the joyous air, the leaping water streams, the breathing of living beings, the conception of civilization…
Running, communication, firelight, farming, family, property, kingship, war…
The Thousand Sons witnessed the growth of this overly simple xenos civilization, witnessed the emergence of elegant diplomatic words and chalices laced with poison. They held their breath, feeling a mixed scent of incense and piety in their respiration. Then, they saw the rise of monotheistic high temples and knightly kingdoms of various forms. Wars in the name of land, faith, and honor erupted one after another. Cities and trade caravans began to rise, and waves of wealth continuously impacted lands originally belonging to dukes and bishops.
It felt as if millennia had passed, yet also as if only an insignificant moment had flashed by. The gaze of Magnus's sons was then disturbed by a chaotic future: they saw fierce wars among the natives, the reckless application of thermonuclear weapons stirring up deadly dust across the sky; they saw a malevolent starry sky, massive invader fleets crushing emerging races into slaves; they saw fratricide a thousand years later, spanning distances and time across the starry sea, effortlessly crumpling the sense of identity within the same race into fragments.
Everything was transforming, everything was burning, everything rolled into an unpredictable future, until it plunged into an unexpected yet logical conclusion.
As Magnus's hand closed, everything vanished again.
"Merely a tiny drop in the boundless river of time, my children. There is no need to be surprised or sentimental. In the days to come, we shall encounter and observe more."
The Primarch's gentle laughter resonated. He casually placed aside the scroll that recorded the rise and fall, glory and shame of a race, clearly having no further interest. After all, long ago at Prospero's star-gazing platform, Magnus, who had just begun observing the Warp, had already witnessed hundreds and thousands of similar things.
"Is this history, Father, or the future?"
One of the Thousand Sons couldn't suppress his curiosity, and Magnus first showed an alluring smile before slowly beginning to explain.
"Those that are already certain, with no further choices or branches developed, are the history that has already occurred. Those that are uncertain, presenting various outcomes, are naturally the future. History is fixed, while the future holds countless possibilities; even the most insignificant and absurd options among them have their own unique underlying logic and reasons for existence."
"Of course, all of this is from our subjective perspective. In the Vast Ocean, the concept of time does not exist. Here, once something appears, it is always in a state of existence, and this state even extends to a time before it appeared."
"More specifically, it's like this xenos civilization before us. From the moment the first life of this race formally came into being, its existence, continuation, future, and destruction already fully existed within the Warp. It's just that when we, visitors from the physical universe, observe this civilization, this benevolent place will compile it into a form we can normally interpret, based on our understanding of the concept of [time]."
"From another perspective, even if this civilization was born five thousand years ago, since it already exists in the Warp, even a visitor from fifty thousand years ago could still view it. However, individuals with such psychic power are exceedingly rare in the long history of the galaxy."
"Of course, you can also call this power [prophecy], just like those mortals."
The Primarch's explanation was fragmented and slow, yet it did not prevent every Thousand Son from showing an enraptured expression, for what could be more wonderful for an Astartes warrior than to study something together with their gene-father?
And just as Magnus's last words fell, he saw a psychic glow, eager to speak, flicker at Morgan's position.
"So, Lord Magnus, the xenos race we just saw—their [future] involves collapsing at the last step of the space age, or entering the Warp, while their [present], which is this very moment, is still thriving on their homeworld, somewhere in an obscure corner of the galaxy?"
"Yes, that is indeed the case."
The Primarch nodded, and then, he let out a certain unspoken, low chuckle.
"I wonder which of my brothers they'll encounter in their future. It's bound to be a tragedy, either way."
At these words, the Thousand Sons also let out knowing, low chuckles. In this light laughter, they forgot everything about this nameless xenos civilization and continued to explore deeper into the Warp.
In the languages of some scholars and civilizations, the Warp is also referred to as the Vast Ocean, and as it turns out, this is a very accurate assessment.
Anyone who has actually visited this place would choose to call it so: so vast, so quiet, so expansive, so bustling, so noisy, so congested…
Diametrically opposed words can be used simultaneously with perfect appropriateness. This is the wondrous nature of the Warp.
Eight souls journeyed through the silent ocean. One of them was dazzling like a star, six were fierce like meteors, and the last was like a moon hiding behind shadows, deliberately concealing its radiance.
And at the end of their vision, the Warp was incessantly changing its colors and shapes. For a moment, it was storm clouds, gorged on thunder and lightning, wandering in the shadows, outlining the shapes of monstrous beasts and their minions. In a blink, one would find it was merely mottled dust swept up by a violent storm, stretching out into thousands upon thousands of shattered tiny realms.
But when they focused their energy, using their true sight to explore, they would find nothing. The Warp revealed nothing but desolation and dead silence. The wealth sought by scholars and explorers was like gold at the bottom of a muddy river, requiring the most meticulous and seasoned scrutiny, and a little bit of luck.
The Primarch paid no heed to these things he had long grown accustomed to. The Lord of Prospero raised a lighthouse condensed from pure psychic energy, illuminating an unimaginably vast expanse. He was not at all worried that this action would attract the ancient inhabitants of the Vast Ocean. In fact, he even looked forward to their appearance, for new thesis topics required more proof.
And it was at this moment that those distant, intermittent ballads appeared.
It was the strangest sound, as if it were the wailing of a thousand ravens with choked throats, or the hissing when a giant snake pit was blown apart. The ballad's tune was indistinct, yet every word was articulated clearly. And when it reached each person's ears, it was entirely different content—broadly, intricate poems about the past and future.
Morgan could hear Ahriman softly reciting poetry about the future and vineyards, or Athavah there reminiscing about the old charm of Terra.
But when she tilted her slender neck to carefully listen to her own ballad, she heard something different.
"Boundless arrogance, self-importance like venom.
Thirsty at midnight, divine slaves prostrate.
Beast trapped in prison, divinely bestowed might.
Soaring hawk brought low, fox gnawing tiger.
The hidden are destined for obscurity, the stone for solitude.
As evil flames ignite, imperial deeds become ancient history.
But behold…
Ambitious beyond measure, weeping at the end of the road.
Serpent robes and green armor, fickle loyalty.
Black ink for appearance, heart like a pearl.
Steel heart and iron blood, cannot escape rust and decay.
Flying wolves and swift horses, gallop no more.
Crown falls to the ground, rattling, masterless.
Finally… the blood dance of myriad nations.
Finally… brothers slaughtering each other.
Finally… the galaxy overturned."
🚨 Note : Consider to Support this Story on Patreon.com/Flokixy to access +200 advance Chapters and To Support The Daily Update