"Welcome back, my brother."
As the last Blood Angel Astartes tremblingly reported his name and stumbled back into the crowd, a deep, powerful voice rang out, clearly reaching every ear. Everyone looked toward the source. The crowd parted like a tide, clearing a wide path for the newcomer.
Ferrus Manus, the Primarch of the Iron Hands, approached with steady steps. His features were hard and cold, like a statue cast from molten iron. His massive frame stood opposite Sanguinius, creating a strange sense of harmony. Behind Ferrus, several Iron Hands Astartes followed silently as guards. Their silver-gray plate reflected the cold metallic light of Baal's moons, contrasting sharply with the crimson armor of the surrounding Blood Angels.
Indeed, Ferrus—who had recently led the Iron Hands to suppress the False Angel's rebellion—had boarded his flagship equipped with an inertialess drive. Crossing the vast sea of stars at speeds that nearly broke the laws of physics, he returned to Baal at the very moment of Sanguinius's resurrection.
His pace did not falter as he walked straight toward the brother who had just returned from death. No overt emotion appeared on Ferrus's face; the Gorgon's sons were never good at expression. However, deep within those iron-gray eyes, something burning was churning violently.
Ten thousand years. During those long dark ages, Ferrus Manus had not truly been dead. His soul had walked with his father's Legion of the Damned in the Warp, hunting filth in the chaotic tides and fighting within the Great Game of the four Chaos Gods.
But Sanguinius was different. The Primarch of the Blood Angels, killed at the hands of the Warmaster Horus—the chosen of the four gods—had a shattered soul and dissipated consciousness. For these ten thousand years, he had truly been in eternal slumber. He was as dead as one could be.
Even so, he had been forcibly pulled back from the abyss of death by that person. Whenever he thought of this, Ferrus marveled at the power known as reality warping, while wondering where his father had found such a god-like individual.
"I am also glad to see you, Ferrus. It has been a long time." Sanguinius offered a perfect smile. His clear eyes reflected the figure of the Gorgon, warm and sincere. When he had heard news of Ferrus Manus falling during the Great Heresy ten thousand years ago, the Archangel had felt profound regret and grief. Now, opening his eyes to return to this cruel yet gentle material universe, he could see his brother's face once more. This, in itself, was a gift of fate.
They stepped closer. The two Primarchs of the Iron Hands and the Blood Angels gripped each other's hands tightly. Then, they gave each other a fierce embrace. Ferrus's hand slapped heavily onto Sanguinius's backplate, producing a dull metallic thud. The Archangel's wings tucked in slightly, enveloping half of the Gorgon's body in a soft, white glow.
On the horizon of Baal, the starlight pierced through the clear atmosphere, bathing these two literal scions of a god in a golden halo. Two legendary figures returned from death stood side by side like pillars supporting the future of humanity. The impact of this scene left every Astartes present in a state of rational shock.
To witness two Primarchs return from death, reunite after ten millennia, and embrace on the red soil of Baal—it caused a nearly holy shiver to run through them. Confusion. Shock. And then—exultation. At this moment, every Astartes was ecstatic. They felt confident facing even the most difficult and cruel battlefields. After all, their Gene-fathers could easily conquer death. What enemy could they possibly fear?
"Sorry, I might have to interrupt you for a moment."
A calm voice sounded. Adam walked up slowly. He cleared his throat with a helpless smile on his face. "I know you've waited ten thousand years for this reunion, but our time is limited. Now that Sanguinius has returned, we have too many plans to move forward."
Adam knew clearly that his current strength was sufficient. As a Rank 4 reality warper, in an era where the Great Rift had not yet opened and the galactic veil remained intact, the four Chaos Gods could not project large-scale power into the material universe. His ability had an overwhelming advantage. However, this did not mean the role of the Primarchs could be replaced. Their wills had been tempered since the Heresy, possessing minds strong enough to resist Chaos corruption, and they held immense rallying power within the Empire. They were true strategic fulcrums.
Who is this? The warriors of the Blood Angels furrowed their brows in unison. In their view, their Gene-father had just returned and deserved more time for reunion—but then, they witnessed a scene that felt utterly absurd to everyone. Both Primarchs nodded slightly to the mortal, showing respect. Every Astartes fell silent. Who exactly is this man?
Adam ignored the inquisitive gazes. After receiving the tacit approval of the two Primarchs, he simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Space began to curve. Light and shadow shifted, as if an invisible giant hand pulled reality aside like a curtain. It was as if the boundary between dream and reality had been blurred. By the time Ferrus and Sanguinius regained their composure, they were standing inside a spacious conference hall. Warm light poured from the domed ceiling, enveloping everything in a soft, cozy atmosphere. The dimensions of the room had clearly been meticulously adjusted; the height of the tables and chairs and the width of the corridors perfectly accommodated the massive bodies of the Primarchs.
"Relax, take a seat." Adam pulled a wine glass out of thin air and settled comfortably into a chair clearly customized for his size. He flicked his finger, and the liquid in the glass rippled finely, emitting a calming fragrance.
Ferrus looked around, a trace of doubt flashing in his iron-gray eyes. "Where are we?"
"You can think of it as a temporary space I created," Adam leaned forward slightly, resting the glass on the armrest. "Modeled after some unique things I've seen before—you can understand it as the deepest part of the mental world." He traced a finger through the air, sending ripples outward from his fingertip. "Everything said here does not exist to the outside world, whether in the material universe or the Warp. Security is absolute."
His expression suddenly turned serious. "After all, what we are about to discuss is a grand plan concerning the entire future of humanity."
The expressions of the two Primarchs sharpened. Adam first turned his gaze toward the Angel he had just resurrected. "How much of your prophetic ability has recovered?" His gaze was burning, almost tangible. This question was the core purpose behind resurrecting Sanguinius.
After the outbreak of the Heresy, Sanguinius had foreseen his own death in a prophecy—it was an unchangeable end in fate. But he did not run. He chose to move forward through various near-death experiences—boarding Emperor-class Titans, fighting Ka'Bandha thrice, guarding the Eternity Gate, and finally boarding the Vengeful Spirit, forcing his way through countless perilous battlefields. In short: if he couldn't die from "trying," he would "try" until he died.
Adam was incredibly envious of this ability to foresee fate. Most reality warpers cannot predict the future; this was even recorded in the Global Occult Coalition's field manual. And as a Rank 4 warper, Adam seemed burdened by a "curse of knowledge"—knowing this setting made it impossible for him to peer into the timeline. But Adam had a counter-strategy. If he couldn't do it himself, he would borrow it from someone who could.
"Yes, I can." Sanguinius nodded calmly. Without any cryptic riddles, he spoke the information Adam wanted to hear directly. "Pandorax."
The name fell from the Angel's lips with a heavy, gloomy weight. "The forces of Chaos plan to make a move there. Although I cannot see the specific details clearly yet, they are attempting to weave a conspiracy. In this plot, multiple daemon primarchs appear, and the shadows of the four Chaos Powers loom behind them."
Adam's eyes lit up. He's terrified? No, he's cheating. If those guys who just finished weaving their plot and were preparing to act saw this, they would likely scream that reality is a garbage game without a report button. He couldn't wait to see their expressions.
"And then?" Adam lowered his voice. "Can you see the outcome of the battle?"
Sanguinius shook his head. "No. The interference is too great. The results I get are meaningless."
Adam frowned slightly. "Is it because of the restrictions set by the four gods?" This was understandable. If Tzeentch, who governed change, sorcery, and various domains, could influence the future and weave illusions to confuse prophecy, it made sense.
Then he saw the Angel's subtle look. Adam was stunned for a moment, then realized. It's me? As a visitor from another world, his very existence was the greatest variable on the timeline. This trait had brought him endless benefits, allowing him to develop smoothly when he first entered this universe. But clearly, at this moment, it also made things difficult for Adam.
However, thinking that it was fair in a way, Adam quickly steadied himself. Whatever comes, he would face it. But he found something strange. Pandorax? There didn't seem to be anything significant there. True, in the future, Warmaster Abaddon would invade Pandorax—but the goal was merely to unseal a Great Unclean One of Nurgle that had been trapped there for ten thousand years. What was a mere Great Unclean One in the context of the coming galactic wars? Or was there a situation he didn't know about?
Regardless, Adam gave up on useless guessing and started thinking about preparations. After a moment, a curve touched his lips.
"I have an idea," he said softly, drawing the gazes of Ferrus and Sanguinius. Adam smiled. "As the saying goes—he fights his war, I fight mine. Sometimes, we don't need to make moves on their chessboard. We jump out and open a second front." He tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically. "I intend to start a war."
Adam spoke faster, his eyes growing more heated as inspiration poured out. "First, this war must strike at the pain and weaknesses of those Chaos filth. The key point is that if our plan succeeds, it will create a situation the Chaos Gods absolutely cannot accept. It will force them to concentrate most of their energy on our offensive instead of causing trouble elsewhere. Of course, we won't give up on Pandorax. I will prepare enough power and resources for you to at least reach a stalemate. As long as we can stop the Chaos plan, we can force them to split their forces and leave them exhausted."
Ferrus and Sanguinius listened quietly to his speech. With their Primarch intelligence, they quickly found areas for improvement and focused on filling the gaps. Ferrus frowned and questioned first:
"Putting Pandorax aside, I have only one question. Where do you intend to start this war? What location could be so unacceptable to those Chaos filth—I mean the Great Powers hiding behind the scenes? Is there truly such a place? If there were, why hasn't the Empire dealt with it?"
Ferrus's question was exactly Sanguinius's confusion.
"There is, brother. There is." Under their gaze, Adam smiled. "The place is somewhat famous in the Empire." He paused, revealing his target directly. "Its name is—the Fortress World of Cadia."
"Little known is that while Cadia serves as the Empire's fortress on the surface, beneath its ground lies a Blackstone array left by the Necrons, used to stabilize the relationship between the Warp and the material universe. This is why the Eye of Terror has been suppressed all these years. And my goal now is simple: to use that array, combined with my power, to completely seal the entire Eye of Terror."
Meeting their increasingly shocked gazes, the smile on Adam's face deepened. "You see, isn't this exactly the outcome the Chaos Gods cannot accept?"