Chapter 6: Terra Chicken Dinner Tournament
"She only told me yesterday that she wished to continue sparring with me. Don't you think this is… rather sudden?"
Within the vast Himalayan Palace complex, Constantine Valdor voiced his concern to the Emperor.
"She has only just learned to fight, and you already intend to place her at the head of an army?"
The Emperor did not look up. He and Malcador were simultaneously processing state matters, their psyches divided into parallel streams of thought.
"I did not expect you to grow so protective of Zero, Valdor."
Valdor pressed his lips together.
"If your future Primarch sons resemble her in temperament, I will have far fewer concerns."
The Emperor rubbed his temples.
He was busy.
Beyond the mountain of administrative burdens, the Thunder Warriors' genetic instability remained an unresolved inevitability. The first generation of Legiones Astartes neared completion. Negotiations with the Mechanicum of Mars approached a decisive phase. And the hidden work beneath the palace — humanity's future passage beyond the Warp — remained frustratingly incomplete.
Even divided into a thousand minds, he would still have too much to do.
"Valdor," the Emperor said, "I have entrusted her with command not only because I trust her… but because she does not yet trust herself."
He paused briefly.
"Only days ago, she was an ordinary human of the late technological age — an era when mankind could scarcely leave its own world. Now she stands on the threshold of wars that will shape the galaxy."
"She is afraid. I understand that fear."
His voice softened slightly.
"But she must understand that she is capable. She is not here because fortune placed her soul into a Primarch's body."
"It is because only a Primarch's body is worthy of her soul."
Valdor absorbed the words.
"So this is a trial," he said. "A victory she must claim to believe in herself."
"Yes."
Valdor hesitated.
"And if she fails?"
Malcador spoke without looking up from his data-slates.
"Then we proceed as we always have. We still have the Emperor… and we still have me."
Valdor studied the two ancient men calmly orchestrating the fate of nations.
"I am beginning to suspect you are both monsters."
"No stipend this month," Malcador replied.
"…I was joking."
Imperial Forward Command Camp
Yuki frowned at the massive tactical hololith depicting Terra.
Beyond the minor tribes and collapsing enclaves, numerous formidable powers still resisted Imperial unification.
The Albian Technocracy in the northern reaches of Pan-Europa fielded colossal war engines and disciplined macro-legions capable of halting Thunder Warrior offensives.
The Caucasus gene-clans were rumored to possess relic bio-augmentations from the Dark Age of Technology.
The Hy-Brasil technarch enclaves in the southern Atlantic territories wielded reactor technologies far beyond typical techno-barbarian capability.
The Nordic psyker-collectives maintained disciplined orders of sanctioned mystics supported by cybernetic warrior cadres.
The Pan-Pacific Directorate, ruled by the enigmatic Nathan Doom, was rumored to employ psychotronic control arrays capable of influencing entire populations.
And in the steppes of Central Asia, the remnants of Ursh endured — less technologically sophisticated, yet sustained by a strange and formidable power that had defied conquest for centuries.
These were only the major threats.
Smaller factions appeared fragile, yet if cornered they might produce hidden relic weapons of the Dark Age and reduce entire armies to ash out of sheer spite.
Yuki grimaced, mentally cursing the Emperor.
Who throws a newcomer directly into endgame content?
Testing someone is one thing — but throwing them straight into a boss raid?
"Does Your Highness find fault with our previous operations?"
Ilya Goth, commander of the Sixth Thunder Legion, spoke cautiously. From the moment she arrived, the princess's expression had been… strained. He did not assume she feared the enemy — only that she disapproved of their performance.
Yuki waved both hands quickly.
"No, no, Commander Goth. Your operations were excellent. I'm grateful — otherwise my situation would be far worse. I was simply considering how to approach this campaign."
Goth straightened, clearly pleased.
She called him Commander.
Ignoring the jealous looks from other legion leaders, he asked, "What course do you propose, Your Highness?"
Yuki's eyes sharpened. Her earlier lethargy vanished.
"Gentlemen, I need several ordinary civilians."
A murmur rippled through the tent.
"Ordinary people?" asked Commander Kirios of the Twelfth Legion. "Does Your Highness doubt our capabilities?"
"I trust you completely," Yuki said. "But only ordinary people can execute the next phase."
She pointed to the archipelagos of Southeast Asia.
"The Indonesian Federation. Its ruler, Bishop Tang, is a fanatic. He enforces selective breeding programs, exterminates those he deems genetically unfit, and burns dissenters alive. His regime is already unstable."
A faint smile crossed her lips.
"He will not remain in power much longer."
She raised a finger.
"But we cannot wait."
"We infiltrate. We incite unrest. When Tang falls, the federation will fracture into chaos. That is when we strike."
She shifted the hololith projection.
"Once secured, the archipelago becomes our naval springboard into the Pan-Pacific territories. Intelligence suggests the Pan-Pacific Directorate and the Albian Technocracy remain locked in strategic rivalry."
"We exploit that."
"My father appears to hold their ruler in some regard. We may leverage diplomacy while launching a two-front offensive against the Directorate."
She traced the eastern hemisphere.
"This neutralizes the greatest threat to the Imperium's eastern flank. Western territories are too fragmented and complex; they require a slower consolidation."
She lifted her gaze to the assembled warriors.
"However — the Indonesian operation must not be rushed. If the regime has not yet fractured internally, outside intervention will unite them against us. That would be a strategic failure."
She folded her arms.
"That is why we require civilians. Thunder Warriors are unmistakable. Infiltration is impossible for you."
She allowed herself a small smile.
"Do not be impatient. Many hard battles still await you."
For a moment, silence held the tent.
Then—
"LONG LIVE HER HIGHNESS!"
The roar shook the pavilion.
Doubt evaporated like frost in sunlight. The Thunder Warriors felt renewed purpose surge through their ranks.
Terra would be unified.
And beyond Terra awaited the stars.
(Emperor: Correct.)