Upon hearing the unknown visitor say, "I am here to end your duty," Dalia found herself in a daze, recalling an afternoon shortly before the Great Heresy when she was a mere scribe in Terra's technical archives.
As an obscure figure, Dalia believed that without that sudden encounter and the Emperor's personal appointment, she would have been crushed during that brutal war. Even if she had survived, she could never have endured these ten thousand long years.
Yet, this longevity came with a price. For the Emperor's will and the future of humanity, Dalia bore a burden of extreme weight—knowing secrets hidden from commoners and inheriting the legacy of the previous Dragon Guardian as the jailer of a C'tan shard. Her only prospect for the future was to find a successor before her life force withered, ensuring this unique responsibility and glory continued, just as her mentor Semyon had done.
And now... hearing such earth-shattering news, Dalia snapped back to reality. She peered through the bottomless darkness at the young human floating above the Noctis Labyrinth.
A second later, golden light tore through the eternal night.
Adam drew the Solomon Ritual Sword, which burned with golden flames. This was the Emperor's psychic power, pure and blazing, illuminating land shrouded in darkness for millennia. Wherever the light touched, Dalia felt the seals placed by the Emperor's hand tremble slightly, as if saluting this force. A blunt yet warm heat flowed into Dalia's heart. The sensation was so distant she had almost forgotten such warmth existed in the world.
In her trance, the figure before her merged with the vision shown to her by the previous Guardian—a knight from Terra's ancient times, clad in golden armor and a red-feathered helm. In that vision, the knight rode a pure black steed, holding a silver lance and a sword, defeating an invincible dragon amidst a procession. It was a manifestation of the Emperor's ancient victory, drawn from the dragon's memory and its hateful, powerless roars within its Martian prison.
Now, this symbol of hope appeared again. Powerful, grand, and unshakable. It seemed as though no difficulty was insurmountable as long as he was there.
"I see. I understand," Dalia's voice echoed at the bottom of the abyss, carrying an unmistakable sense of relief. "You may come down now."
"I am already here," a voice replied from behind her.
Dalia shuddered and whipped her head around. Adam stood behind her, raising a hand in greeting. "Hello there."
A faint smile sat on his face; his demeanor was relaxed, as if visiting an old friend. Adam observed Dalia. She wore extremely plain clothes, her thin, frail frame sitting in the center of a massive altar, looking out of place. Her face bore the exhaustion of ten thousand years, but her eyes remained clear and bright.
Adam looked around. They were in a bottomless pit, the rock walls covered in dense, unknown runes. Beneath his feet, the altar stretched in all directions, every inch engraved with complex psychic patterns.
Dalia looked bewildered. She had personally set the defenses around the Labyrinth. For ten thousand years, she had reinforced them to ensure no one could enter undetected. Not even a Daemon Primarch could have broken through silently.
"How did you get down here?" Dalia stared at him, demanding a logical explanation.
"Well..." Adam rubbed his chin, seemingly thinking hard. "I took the stairs?"
Dalia: "..."
After a moment of silence, Dalia shook her head. There was no point in arguing.
"Your arrival was not in my prophecies," her voice echoed, carrying a hint of solemnity. "The future has changed."
Prophecy was a talent she possessed as a Perpetual. But the man before her was entirely absent from her visions.
"That's normal," Adam said calmly, his gaze shifting past Dalia to the darkness behind her. "Even the Emperor on the Golden Throne cannot foresee every detail of the future."
Adam's vision extended deeper. In that infinite dark, beneath layers of seals, a mass of energy too large to describe lay dormant. It beat like the heart of a star, slow and rhythmic. Each pulse sent a tidal wave of pressure against the Emperor's seals, causing ripples. Adam could hear it—the terrifying, faint breath of a star expanding and contracting. He had hunted Void Dragon shards before, but this imprisoned remnant was on a vastly different scale.
Adam stared into the darkness. After a long while, he sighed. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Dalia paused. She followed his gaze into the depths toward the "prisoner" who had been her companion for ten millennia. "...To be honest, yes," she whispered.
Even though she spent most of her life dealing with this prisoner, Dalia had to admit it. The Void Dragon was beautiful. It was a beauty that didn't belong to mortal creatures; it was the beauty of the stars, the manifestation of the material universe's essence, a primal force from the dawn of time.
The Emperor had chosen to imprison it here rather than destroy it, not just because he couldn't—but because he saw another possibility. The Cult Mechanicus on Mars, their fanatical faith in the "Omnissiah," and their worship of machinery and knowledge all stemmed from this sleeping star god. This had provided the Emperor with incredible convenience during the Great Crusade.
Dalia withdrew her gaze and looked at the young man. "I will transfer the authority of the Noctis Labyrinth to you." Her voice was formal, as if performing a solemn ritual. She paused, then asked, "So, what do you intend to do?"
"Simple. I will finish the task the Emperor left incomplete ten thousand years ago," Adam replied calmly, his voice echoing through the abyss.
"I shall slay the dragon."