At this very moment, vast light-years away across space from Cadia.
In the Segmentum Solar.
Terra.
If a traveler from the Imperial Fringes—say, a Rogue Trader who had spent decades braving the galaxy's edge—were to return here today, they would be struck utterly speechless, driven to doubt their own eyes.
Following the complete reorganization of the Adeptus Mechanicus, technologies long buried in the Dark Age of Technology—and even the Age of Strife—had been unearthed once more.
Those Mechanicus Magos, who had once hoarded their knowledge and manufacturing power for isolated study, had now rekindled their true passion.
Their first grand endeavor: a complete, ground-up transformation of Terra itself.
The ancient hive cities that once spewed into the sky like decayed fangs, choking the surface, had vanished without a trace.
In their place rose sleek, silvery-white architecture, ascending from the earth in organic, fluid curves. Gentle light patterns flowed across their surfaces, giving the impression that the entire city was softly breathing.
Suspended in the air, transport networks wound gracefully between the structures like ribbons of silver.
Luminous, crystal-clear energy domes sheltered different districts, refracting sunlight into rainbow halos over lush, floating sky-gardens.
High in orbit, pearlescent space cities floated silently, as smooth and rounded as dew-drops.
Not a single rivet or weld could be seen on their surfaces, as though each was sculpted from a single block of pure crystal.
Incorporating the collective genius of the imperium's brightest minds—and even blending technological marvels from other species—these vessels far surpassed the dilapidated hive cities in both comfort and safety.
The once dark, soot-choked skies—drenched for millennia in heavy industrial poison—were now completely clear.
Gentle sunlight beat down, leaving the gleaming tops of the streamlined towers ablaze, with not a trace of acrid chemical fumes remaining in the fresh air.
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the homeworld of humanity had truly been reborn.
Across the planet's surface, a surge of unbridled ecstasy surged through the populace.
Imperial citizens—whose basic needs for food and warmth had finally been met under the newly restructured Imperium—spontaneously took to the streets.
Fanatically waving banners, their cheers rose in overwhelming waves, sweeping through every city and alleyway like a roaring tsunami.
"Long live the Imperium!"
"Long live Humanity!"
Young men and women embraced, jumping, screaming, and tossing their hats and scarves into the sky, letting the wind carry them away.
This was no hollow, self-deluding propaganda victory of the old Imperium; this was a glorious triumph felt to the very core by every soul.
The Eye of Terror has been closed.
The news swept across Terra like a hurricane. From the high nobility down to the common populace, everyone was caught in a tide of wild, ecstatic emotion.
Yet, deep within the newly reorganized Imperial Palace, a very different atmosphere reigned.
Inside the High Lords' Council Chamber, it was eerily quiet.
A few High Lords had gathered.
Following the Rebellion of the Hexarchy, the High Council had been drastically reformed by Roboute Guilliman. However, to maintain stability, he had refrained from a total overhaul of key personnel.
Those High Lords who had abstained from the Hexarchy's treason—standing firm alongside the Primarch during the storm—remained steadfast in their original offices.
"Truly unbelievable... When I first heard the news, I thought it must be some sort of mistake—"
Representative of the Inquisition, High Lord Lady Erda, said with a faint smile.
As a veteran Inquisitor, she was unaccustomed to such genuine emotion. While she was a master of feigned expressions, showing genuine joy left her almost unsure of how to move her face.
"To be frank, indeed," replied Grand Master of Assassins, Fadix, sitting across from her.
He toyed with a razor-sharp dagger in his hand before slipping it effortlessly back into his sleeve. His voice carried a strange trance, as if his entire worldview had just shattered.
A deeply entrenched, pessimistic conservative, Fadix had aided Guilliman during the Hexarchy's rebellion to execute the purges. Later, during the death of Xymotrien, he had personally helped Guilliman eradicate the remnants of dissenting factions and the Administratum opposition.
Yet, he had done all this not out of hope, but out of a desperate belief that he must at least keep things from getting worse.
Over his long life, Fadix had seen through every layer of this corrupt Imperium. The disease ran so deep that even he—a self-proclaimed scalpel—could never cut it clean. The threat of Chaos, combined with internal rot, rendered the Imperium more helpless by the day.
Fadix had firmly believed that even with a Primarch returned, a single demigod was far too small to save an empire so suffocatingly vast.
And now?
What do you mean, the Eye of Terror is closed?
Is this some kind of joke?
"There is no mistake," sighed Chancellor of the Imperial Council, Alexei Lev Tieron, his voice laden with unhideable exhaustion. "Numerous dispatches have confirmed it. Cross-referencing data across every channel leaves the truth beyond a shadow of a doubt. If you still disbelieve it, a single glance through the observatory will prove it real."
His hair had turned completely white, and his face aged far beyond his years.
Evidently, after Guilliman departed Terra, Tieron realized just how irreplaceable the Primarch truly was.
The administrative workload following the sweeping reforms had multiplied exponentially, nearly crushing the mortal man beneath its weight.
Even though he no longer needed to maneuver through subtle political games to maintain the center's fragile balance, he was utterly drained, with hardly any energy left for idle chatter.
"So, let us come up with a plan," the Chancellor sighed again, looking around the room.
"The closing of the Eye of Terror brings endless benefits to the Imperium. But naturally, it brings new complications. For instance: Should the military-political framework in the Segmentum Tempestus be dismantled? Will Cadia's leadership position over the Astra Militarum change? How should we build the administrative structure for expanding new sectors? I need to hear your thoughts."
The moment the words left his mouth, he watched as the two High Lords silently stood up.
"I shall take my leave."
"I leave it to you; I know nothing of such matters."
In the blink of an eye, the two exceptionally skilled High Lords vanished cleanly from the room, their silhouettes slipping out through the exit like phantom shadows.
Looking at the now dead-silent, completely empty Council Chamber, Tieron fell silent.
He felt like weeping.
For what felt like the thousandth time, the Imperial Chancellor cried out silently in his heart:
Lord Guilliman!
Save me!
Meanwhile, far away on Cadia, Roboute Guilliman—currently sharing an unforgettable victory feast with two of his Primarch brothers—had clearly forgotten about a certain someone entirely.