893.M41.
This was the most logical and widely used Imperial dating convention, representing the 893rd year of the 41st Millennium.
Two years and four months had passed since a certain reality warper arrived in this universe.
And just over a month had elapsed since the conclusion of that magnificent Battle of Cadia.
The impact of this war within the Imperium was beyond question.
Due to the closure of the Eye of Terror, the massive shockwaves it triggered reached every corner of the Imperium, leaving a profound and heavy mark. Whether through institutional shifts or changes in societal thought, the transformations were far too numerous to count.
Some might have believed that Cadia would turn into an ordinary world following the closure of the Eye of Terror.
Evidently, their expectations were dead wrong.
Vast numbers of Space Marine Chapters eager for new glory, chartered fleets tasked with transporting supplies, crusading armies assembled by the Ecclesiarchy, Forge Arks carrying archaeological missions, and countless Rogue Traders all surged into the sector at once. Their arrival transformed Cadia into a system tens of times more prosperous than ever before.
Driven by a certain Primarch, the zones previously under martial law were fully opened.
Every single day, endless crowds with varying motives set out from the staging hub of Cadia, venturing toward worlds that had lain dormant for ten thousand years.
They came for honor, for knowledge, for wealth, for fame, or for faith; the pace of expedition never faltered.
At every waking moment, new stars and new Warp routes were discovered.
Yet the ripples caused by closing this massive rift went far beyond that—the turbulent tides of the entire Warp seemed to have smoothed out.
Everyone working in Warp navigation marveled at how a realm so historically plagued by tempestuous currents could become so serene.
Some Inquisitors even recalled ancient records from ten thousand years past, viewing this as yet another powerful proof of humanity triumphing over Chaos.
Naturally, the Imperium's advance would never grind to a halt over a single victory.
A new crusade was already in preparation.
After consulting with several Primarchs, all senior leaders of the Imperium unanimously agreed that Chaos could not be left to operate at leisure without consequence.
Thus, the new crusade was officially launched.
Yet the leader of this campaign was neither an Astartes nor an individual endowed with extraordinary powers like a psyker—he was merely a mortal.
However, his name was very simple: Macarius.
Relying solely on a name that was practically synonymous with victory across the Imperium, he easily attracted a vast legion of fanatics.
They rallied their peers, and under the auspices of the Primarchs, with Macarius as Lord Commander, Lufgt Huron—Chapter Master of the Astral Claws—as the Astartes representative, and Sebastian as the representative of the Ecclesiarchy, alongside numerous legendary figures across the Imperium's history and realm, a massive crusade began its march toward the Maelstrom.
With every passing moment, new planets were discovered; with every passing second, Chaos warbands were completely eradicated, relegated to history.
The Imperium began expanding its borders with full force.
Unlike in the past, while launching outward campaigns, they were also giving their all to consolidate their gains.
Relying on the now-placid Warp, traveling merchants gathered resources from afar.
The Planetary Governors at the Imperium's core hubs were all filled by Adeptus Custodes, who were masters in all forms of administration and governance while remaining eternally corruption-free and efficient.
This vastly accelerated the process of tax reform.
A certain Primarch—indeed, the one most adept at administrative affairs—pushed his political management talents to their absolute limit, deepening reforms across every sector, every world, and every Imperial domain.
Everything appeared so thoroughly prosperous.
Humanity held its head high.
The entire Imperium resembled a sleeping dragon awakening from its slumber.
Enemies that would have brought immense trouble to the Imperium in days past now seemed to bow before its feet.
Whenever those threats surfaced within Imperial borders, they instantly triggered fleet offensives of unimaginable proportions, easily crushed in a single stroke.
Everything was so beautiful.
So beautiful it felt like the most fantastical dream, almost unbelievable.
Of course, while everyone was filled with boundless optimism, a few remained deeply anxious.
Within the council space created by Adam.
The four gathered once more.
The massive icon of the Emperor continued to bathe them in light from above. The statue's eyes flickered with radiant luminescence, its face filled with compassion.
"Let's hear it. Has anyone detected Chaos's scheme?"
Adam leaned his body back against the thick chair, letting out a long sigh.
A trace of exhaustion ran through his voice—not from combat, but from a lengthy, fruitless search.
"I've tried every trick in the book, anyway."
He spread his hands. "I've shuttled back and forth through the Warp, searching everywhere, even risking a personal look deep into the domains of Chaos itself. But I found nothing. The Four Chaos Gods simply joined forces to drive me out. That was all."
Adam paused, an expression of exasperation flashing across his eyes.
"All I can say is, they must have drawn up some sort of offensive and defensive alliance. Their ties right now are far stronger than during the Cadian War. It's safe to say that if we attack one side now, even their mortal enemies among the others will come to assist."
Adam tapped his fingers gently against the desk, the sound echoing through the empty council hall.
"The current situation is a complete stalemate. We've reached a stage where neither side can do anything to the other."
"Indeed. No anomalies have been detected in realspace either."
Guilliman sighed.
The Primarch of the Ultramarines frowned slightly, reaching out to pick up the stack of heavy Inquisition reports from the desk. After flipping through a few pages, he casually set it back down.
"I spent quite some time carefully reviewing the reports submitted by the Inquisition. Chaos cultists within the Imperium remain as common as ever. Although they are suppressed the moment they appear, the frequency of their emergence shows nothing suspicious."
His fingers tapped twice on the report cover, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness.
"Being too normal makes one uneasy instead."
"Same on my end."
It was Ferrus who spoke. He crossed his arms over his chest, his silver-encased hands reflecting the dim light.
"My crusade fleet hasn't found any targets of real value."
The Primarch of the Iron Hands—who had been logically chosen by Guilliman and Sanguinius as the Imperium's new Warmaster after the victory at Cadia—said in a deep voice, "Any xenos or Chaos forces encountered were thoroughly crushed by me. Everything appears completely normal."
He spoke directly and plainly, without any embellishment.
After briefly summarizing his situation, everyone's eyes immediately shifted toward Sanguinius.
The Angel Primarch sat quietly to the side, his snow-white wings tucked slightly behind him, emitting a soft, gentle luminescence.
Four gazes converged on him alone, everyone waiting with eager anticipation.
It's all up to you!
Since you could previously foresee crucial pivot points like Pandorax, giving the Imperium the upper hand in its clash against Chaos—spill your intelligence!
However, faced with everyone's intense gaze, Sanguinius surprisingly shook his head.
He spoke with regret, his voice carrying a trace of apology: "Forgive me, I haven't seen anything useful either."
"Even you?"
Guilliman was thoroughly surprised, his brow furrowing deeper.
"Yes. For reasons unknown to me, I can no longer see concrete visions like before."
Sanguinius lowered his eyes slightly.
Within those eyes, originally clear as water, an elusive shadow was now reflected.
"All I can see is a realm of darkness."
His voice was low and slow. "A darkness capable of devouring even the stars. This darkness expands endlessly without bound, until it envelopes the entire galaxy, drowning and consuming all its light."
He paused, raising his eyes to meet the gaze of every Primarch present.
"—That is all. Nothing more."
Everyone fell into silence.
Clearly, this sounded exceptionally grim.
"Nothing we can do about it, then. It seems the Four Chaos Gods saw this coming."
Adam covered his face, rubbing his temples forcefully.
A moment later, he lowered his hands and shook his head.
"We can't expect prophecies to work every single time anyway. Looks like we'll have to rely on our own deduction."
He sat up straight, his gaze sweeping across the three Primarchs present, his tone turning decisive.
"Since we can't determine where the next threat will come from, let's simply list every possible threat imaginable.
—Exhaustive listing, omitting nothing."
"That said, no matter how we list them, all we can think of are these, isn't it?"
Guilliman let out a sigh.
He extended his arm, picked up a few items from the desk, and casually tossed them down.
Four models of varying appearances landed on the tabletop with a soft clatter.
A Tyranid model with flared claws, as if emitting raspy shrieks, its body encased in a chitinous carapace;
An Orkish model with bulging muscles, looking crude and beefy, its face sporting a toothy snarl across thick, fleshy features;
A Necron model, pitch-black all over with a skeletal frame, holding a glowing green staff;
And a final Eldar model, dressed flamboyantly with posture exuding absolute elegance.
The four models wobbled gently on the desk before coming to a standstill, resembling four chess pieces set upon a board.
Indeed.
If one used the method of exhaustive listing, what humanity would have to face next was likely just these options.
Since Chaos had suffered severe casualties, exhausted its hidden cards, and had its upper limit thoroughly mapped out, the remaining entities capable of posing a threat were naturally just these four.
As for a certain blue-skinned xenos species that preferred to remain anonymous?
Heh, naturally there was no need to bring them up.
After all, just moments prior, all the Primarchs had learned from Adam that he would take time to deal with related matters later.
Of course, regarding Adam's claimed method—one that "would not harm a single hair of that race, yet ensure it is thoroughly converted into humanity's strength"—the Primarchs clearly harbored doubts, yet remained curious nonetheless.
Still, having collaborated for so long, they naturally knew better than to fixate overly on the plan proposed by this Contractor of the Emperor.
Everyone looked at the four models on the desk, lost in thought.
Silence spread across the council chamber.
The light from the Emperor's icon fell over those lifelike models, as if plating them in a thin layer of gold.
They seemed to decipher something within them.
Yet at the same time, they seemed to see nothing at all.
In the end, it was Adam who broke the silence first.
"I have to say, setting aside a few highly improbable scenarios..."
He reached out, casually nudging the four models on the desk.
His finger first tapped the Tyranid, then slid across the Ork, knocked against the Necron, and finally rested on the Eldar model.
"Like horror stories where the Silent King didn't actually destroy the Command Protocols, Gork and Mork deciding to step down personally for a brawl, the Eldar God of Death resurrecting on the spot, or the main force of the Great Devourer arriving in the galaxy countless years ahead of schedule..."
At this point, Adam tilted his head.
"Honestly, other than those, I feel like none of them pose any real danger."
Leaning back against his seat, he spread his hands. "Not a single one capable of putting up a real fight."
As Adam's words trailed off, he noticed something felt wrong.
Three pairs of eyes were staring straight at him.
Guilliman's brow was slightly furrowed, Sanguinius's wings tucked in imperceptibly, and even Ferrus—whose face was usually as stern as iron—had an indescribable look in his obsidian eyes.
The three simply stared at him.
Intensely.
Feeling a bit unnerved by their gaze, Adam instinctively leaned back.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
He looked around at the three of them, his tone filled with clear confusion.
"Don't jinx it."
Guilliman looked up, his blue eyes filled with helplessness. "Don't turn it into a self-fulfilling prophecy."
He pointed a finger across the air in Adam's direction: "Though I still haven't figured out how your ability works—why it feels completely detached from both realspace and the Warp—you definitely need to exercise some restraint. What if it actually affects things?"
Adam blinked.
"Rest easy. It won't."
He sat up straight, meeting Guilliman's gaze with complete candor.
"Like I said, I truly believe from the bottom of my heart—that won't happen. It just won't."
Guilliman stared at him for a long moment before ultimately saying nothing.
"Let's hope so."
Everyone's gaze dropped once more, returning to the four pieces on the desk.
Silence shrouded the council hall once again.
After a long while, Ferrus broke the quiet first.
"It seems we must prepare genuine countermeasures for what comes next."
"No matter how absurd or impossible something might seem..." He paused, his five fingers slowly curling into a tight fist, "...we must remain at absolute alertness, forcibly running simulations to make flawless preparations."
Adam nodded, clearly agreeing with this view.
"Starting today, we need to draft four sets of response plans."
He said, "Targeting the Great Devourer, the Orks, the Necrons, and the Eldar. Every plan must be so detailed that even the smallest variable is taken into account."
"Step by step is how we move forward. Let's begin."