Above Heralius Hive City, the sky-blotting dust from the Heldrake's fall had not yet settled. Imperial and Chaos soldiers were still locked in the last and bloodiest scattered skirmishes across the scorched battlefield.
But the focus of every eye had, without exception, turned toward the region where the Heldrake's wreckage lay heaped.
It was bathed in a radiance beyond all description.
This was not the restrained, tenacious glow of the Living Saint state from before. This was something pure and supreme — a golden sun that seemed to pour directly from the depths of the Golden Throne itself.
It carried no heat, yet its majesty made every Imperial unit's soul tremble in reverence. Every Chaos unit recoiled with instinctive dread.
At the heart of that radiance stood a figure atop the wreckage — body broken and swaying, propped up by a chainsword, bathed in golden light:
I Am Not God.
His personal interface — and the center of every watching player's field of view — was consumed by a cascade of text. Cast as though from solid gold, framed in ancient scroll-work and sacred runes, these were no simple system notifications. They read like proclamations delivered directly from some supreme will, reaching across time and space:
---
[The corpses of xenos have paved thirteen blood-soaked steps leading to the Golden Throne.]
Phantom images flickered at the margins: the Heldrake's roar, the Bloodletters' rout, the Daemon Engine's collapse, the fall of Khorne's Chosen, the annihilation of the Possessed Marines… and finally, the last dying wail of the Heldrake.
[The loyal warrior has completed the Thirteenfold Holy Destruction — trials handed down by the Emperor Himself.]
The numeral "13" blazed with undying brilliance, lighting from 1 to 13 in sequence, settling at last into wholeness.
[This unyielding human, bearing a mortal frame, has walked his own Thirteenfold Road of Glory.]
Images flashed: charging through artillery fire, swinging a blade at the edge of annihilation, standing shoulder to shoulder with Krieg soldiers in the face of death, holding firm as a god's whisper clawed at his will.
[A warrior worthy of respect…]
The text paused. As though even that supreme will was taking stock — measuring what it saw.
[Your deeds have caused the Lord of Mankind — eternally burning upon the Throne of Terra, within the warp — to turn… the faintest gaze upon you. And to offer… acknowledgment.]
The words gaze and acknowledgment landed with the weight of entire star systems. This was not praise. Not admiration. It was something cold and vast — the confirmation of a star acknowledging the orbit of a single planet.
[The Thirteenfold Holy Destruction… is complete.]
[The Lord of Mankind… has turned a 'smile' upon your 'record of battle.']
[He has taken… 'interest' in you, this… soldier of the Imperium.]
Then the proclamation became an invitation. Or rather, a command:
[Come.]
[Become His instrument.]
[Give Him — and thereby all of Mankind — your everything, unto death, or… beyond death.]
[The Lord of Mankind… has never been ungenerous… with His blessings… for tools that serve Him well.]
---
The radiance shifted.
Before I Am Not God's consciousness, a scroll unfurled — composed entirely of light. Its edges burned with golden flame. Its surface bore the Imperial Aquila and intricate sacred geometries.
The script was not Low Gothic. It was something older, closer to the language of primal will itself. Yet its meaning poured directly into his soul:
[Imperial Covenant of Honor]
[Core Terms of the Covenant:]
1. [Supreme Command]
From the moment this Covenant takes effect, whenever you enter any battlefield under the Imperial faction, you will automatically be granted temporary tactical command authority over all Imperial sub-factions present — including but not limited to: all regiments of the Imperial Guard, all Chapters of the Astartes brotherhoods, the Skitarii and Titan Legions of the Adeptus Mechanicus, and sub-factions pending unlock such as the Adeptus Arbites, the Inquisition, and the Orders Militant of the Adeptus Ministorum. You will become an extension node of the Emperor's will upon the battlefield.
2. [Status: The Great Crusade That Never Ends]
The Covenant grants you a unique growth path. Each time you achieve victory against the forces of Chaos — judged by fulfilling primary victory conditions or making a decisive contribution to campaign victory — you accumulate 1 point of [Crusade Points]. Upon accumulating a set number, you may petition the Covenant and exchange them for a [Blessing] from the Lord of Mankind. The contents of each Blessing are unknown. They may include attribute enhancement, special abilities, unique equipment, faction-exclusive privileges, or even changes to the very nature of your soul. This growth path has no ceiling.
3. [Faction Restriction and Its Price]
Loyalty is not a choice. It is breathing. Upon signing the Covenant, your character will be permanently bound to the [Imperium] faction. You will be unable to select Chaos, xenos, or other hostile factions in standard game modes — unless, in special story or event modes, you accept a temporary "wartime ally" invitation. Or… undergo thorough, irreversible "corruption" and fall permanently into the warp, at which point the Covenant automatically dissolves and unknown consequences may follow. This restriction exists for the life of the character.
---
The Covenant's text was cold and absolute. It left no room for negotiation.
It offered a road toward supreme power and glory — and in the same breath, imposed the most unyielding shackles. This was total self-surrender to the Imperium's war machine — and a sacred oath bound directly to the Golden Throne.
The light held. The battlefield held its breath.
Standing atop the Heldrake's wreckage, bathed in golden radiance that seemed on the verge of dissolving his very soul, I Am Not God — Daniel — felt the Emperor's gaze scorching through his severed arm as though burning to the marrow.
His thoughts drifted back across everything he had experienced since first stepping into this game world.
Before this moment, he might have hesitated — questioned whether victory rankings or some personal ambition could justify this. But standing here, over the dead, beneath that vast and certain gaze, the answer came without effort.
A road destined to be filled with blood and fire. With sacrifice and conquest. But one that also bore the unbending will of humanity and its slender, stubborn thread of hope.
No more hesitation.
He raised his one remaining hand. Not to grip a mouse or click a screen — but following some instinct deeper than thought, he pressed his bloodstained fingertips slowly and without flinching against the base of that burning golden scroll, suspended in the depths of his consciousness. Against the blank space at its end, waiting to receive a signature.
The moment his virtual fingertips touched the light —
Hum——————!!!!
A tolling of bells more immense and soul-shattering than anything that had come before rang out. It sounded as though from the deepest foundations of the Imperial Palace on Terra — from the very base of the Golden Throne — crossing the infinite span of the galaxy to crash and resound in the souls of every Imperial unit on the field, every watching player.
The radiance of the scroll collapsed inward in an instant, entering his body and becoming an eternal brand. A miniature Imperial Aquila surfaced at the very center of his character's status bar, turning slowly, radiating undying gold.
[The Covenant… has been signed.]
[Welcome to… the eternal war of liberation.]
[May the will of the Lord of Mankind guide your path, unto the last star.]
[The Imperium… is eternal.]
The final words did not come from any system. They sounded more like an ancient sigh fused with a proclamation — and then vanished into the boundless light.
The golden pillar slowly contracted, and at last sank entirely into I Am Not God's body. He still stood there — one arm gone, body shattered, drenched in blood. His outward appearance seemed unchanged.
Yet every being that looked upon him, friend and foe alike, felt it with absolute clarity:
Something essential had shifted. Something decisive.
He was the Emperor's Covenant-bearer.