Ultima Segmentum, Obsidiania.
This planet was a place of agony, forgotten on the edge of the galaxy.
Its thin atmosphere was powerless to block the violent radiation from its sun. A lethal energy permeated every inch of rock, turning the surface into a scorched wasteland where life was extinct. Only gene-enhanced Astartes could survive briefly on this cursed land.
The fortress-monastery of the Black Swords Chapter—the "Penumbral Spike"—stood here, nestled among the most treacherous mountains.
Deep within the fortress-monastery, in corridors far removed from the raging radiation outside, Chapter Master Midenias was walking at a brisk pace. The echo of his power boots hitting the cold metal floor rang solitary through the deep halls. Along the walls, dim glowing orbs illuminated large, mottled murals—silent testaments to the Chapter's history.
As Chapter Master, the burden on Midenias's shoulders never lightened. The extreme environment of their home world made supplies and recruitment a constant struggle. The Orks in the sector were like weeds that could never be fully uprooted, and unknown ancient xenos ruins were unearthed with alarming frequency.
His brow was habitually furrowed, lost in heavy thought.
However, misfortunes never come singly.
An Astartes brother stepped quickly from the shadows of a pillar ahead, intercepting Midenias. He was unhelmeted, his face covered in heavy grief.
"Chapter Master," his voice was dry and low. "The Hall of Slumber... Elder Sevirus... he..."
What?
Midenias's heart sank. Before the reporting warrior could even repeat himself, Midenias had turned into a deep blue storm. He tore through the air, rushing toward the depths of the monastery with the transcendent speed of an Astartes.
He blurred past the prayer halls, sprinted through the training grounds, and dashed down spiral staircases, ignoring all salutes and inquiries. Finally, he burst through a metal door inscribed with countless sealing runes and mourning scriptures.
The Hall of Slumber.
There was no intrusion of external radiation here. The air was clean and temperature-controlled; the dim light came from the soft flicker of holy candles.
At this moment, Chapter Master Midenias felt as if the ground beneath him was collapsing.
He rushed to the very end of the hall, before the towering Contemptor Dreadnought chassis. The massive metal shell remained as it always had, but its core essence had vanished, leaving behind only a cold, dead silence.
The Chapter Chaplain, dressed in black robes and holding a sacramental crozius, stood solemnly to the side. He slowly nodded toward the rushing Chapter Master, his eyes filled with sorrow.
Even with the superhuman mental fortitude and processing speed of an Astartes, Midenias felt a wave of dizzying vertigo.
How is this possible?
To maximize the protection of these precious elders from antiquity and to isolate them from the lethal radiation of Obsidiania, the Hall of Slumber was buried deep in the most secure levels of the monastery. Maintenance rituals were constant. How could it be so sudden?
His gaze locked onto the machine.
Sevirus Scaevola. A dueling champion of the Ultramarines Legion during the Great Crusade, and the founder and first Chapter Master of the Black Swords. He was a walking monument of history, having witnessed the glory of the Primarchs leading humanity and the long darkness that followed the Great Heresy. He had fulfilled his watch in this bitter land of the Far East for century after century beyond the call of duty.
And now, just like that... his soul had returned to the Throne?
"What was the cause?" Midenias's voice was low.
"I have checked repeatedly, Chapter Master. All environmental parameters are stable, and the maintenance systems functioned perfectly." The Chaplain looked up, his eyes filled with complex emotions. "However, in the moment before the Elder fell silent, I sensed a flicker of incredibly pure... divinity."
"It was the Emperor's will. The Elder was personally summoned to the Golden Throne by Him."
Hearing this, Midenias fell silent. His throat moved, but all his surging emotions finally settled into a heavy sigh. Now, he could only hope the Elder would find an honorable rest beneath the Golden Throne.
However, what the Chapter Master could not have imagined was that, at this very moment...
Sevirus opened his eyes.
There was no slight hum of sensory systems connecting as there usually was upon awakening, nor was there that familiar sensation of sluggishness. There was only a lightness so foreign it felt bizarre to him.
Sevirus took a few seconds—or perhaps longer—to confirm this wasn't some Warp illusion.
Where am I?
As a veteran who had survived for ages within a Dreadnought, Sevirus Scaevola believed he had seen the most strange and cruel sights the galaxy had to offer. The grandeur of the Great Crusade, the treachery of the xenos, the blasphemy of Chaos, and even the tragedy of the Imperium's ten-thousand-year decline...
He thought he was beyond being surprised by anything illogical. But this experience was still far too surreal.
His last memory was the eternal silence of the Hall of Slumber. Then, there was a "light." It had pierced through his conscious slumber like something physical. An infinite sea of golden light appeared. Sevirus felt a heat that seemed to originate from the very source of his soul. Before he could think, his consciousness was swallowed by that light, falling into a senseless chaos.
And then... now.
He suddenly tried to sit up. Success came so abruptly that he raised his hands in disbelief, bringing them close to his eyes.
They were hands of flesh and blood.
"How do you feel?"
A voice came from the side, carrying a faint, subtle trace of a smile.
Sevirus spun his head around like a startled beast, his movements faster than he himself expected. He saw two people standing by the bed nearby.
The speaker was a dark-haired man who appeared to be a mortal. He was young, with deep eyes, wearing simple dark clothing. He stood in a relaxed posture, smiling at him.
"Think carefully. He should have already implanted everything into your mind."
Sevirus was dazed. There were indeed things he remembered in his mind, but he instinctively wanted to reject them. For a ten-thousand-year veteran who believed in the Imperial Truth, this was all a bit too advanced.
Until... he looked at the other person. An Astartes.
No, it was impossible. Sevirus's breath hitched.
"Long time no see, Sevirus."
The man spoke. His voice was steady and powerful, carrying a light, vibrant energy belonging to the Golden Age of the Great Crusade—a sound Sevirus had only heard in his oldest memories.
Aeonid Thiel.
The first Captain of the Ultramarines' Second Company, the most trusted lieutenant of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman, a legendary hero of the Five Hundred Worlds, and... the hero whom Sevirus had once fought alongside. He had witnessed Thiel bring the Primarch back from the edge of Fulgrim's blade, only to die later.
Why are you still here?!
"Thiel..." Sevirus uttered the name like a preserved prayer. He looked sharply at the dark-haired man, then back at Thiel, his grey-white pupils constricting rapidly.
A trick of Chaos? Some Warp trap aimed at his ancient soul?
Yes, that must be it! The souls of veterans like them were likely tempting trophies for the Chaos Gods. Caution and fury were pumped into his new veins like engine oil. His body tensed; even after ten thousand years, his muscle memory was clear. Even without power armor, he was still a top-tier dueling champion.
Sevirus stared intensely at Thiel, trying to find a flaw in the disguise beneath that familiar face.
But whether it was Thiel's every movement, Sevirus's own deep-seated intuition, or the knowledge that had mysteriously emerged in his mind, everything told him: This was normal. The person in front of him was indeed the Thiel he knew.
"I know this is hard to believe." Thiel's voice was soft. He paused, stepped forward a few paces, and looked at Sevirus calmly, as if weighing his words.
Then, he spoke a single sentence that shattered Sevirus's mental defenses:
"Next, we are going to Macragge to awaken our sleeping gene-father."
Sevirus's pupils dilated suddenly.
"And you wouldn't want to be missing when our gene-father first opens his eyes, would you?" Adam added from the side, nodding to himself.
For an Astartes, those words were arguably ten times—no, nine times—more terrifying than being told he couldn't participate in a boarding action!