Lucian fell silent once again as he reviewed the flaws. "These damn flaws are just... The Emperor would be speechless, and the four Chaos Gods would be moved to tears."
Leaning back against the headboard, he stared up at the ceiling and muttered to himself. "With so many drawbacks, why did I insist on picking this one? Because Crimson Dawn needs power. Because Paul needs power. Because the more flaws something has, the stronger its specialized combat potential will be. That's the ultimate truth of this insane, asylum-like universe. Paul might have the foundation of a Champion, Custodian-level augmentations, and Alpha-grade psychic powers, giving him combat strength comparable to a Primarch..."
Lucian shifted his gaze to the golden figure on the screen, who was currently discussing the mission rewards with Tax Bro and the others. "...but it's still only comparable. Against genuine, top-tier Primarchs—against absolute monsters on the level of Sanguinius, Horus, the Lion, Ferrus, the Raven Lord, or the Khan—he's still outmatched. Even against the likes of Guilliman, Fulgrim, or the perpetually beaten-down Angron, the current Paul could only manage to hold out for a short while without losing."
As for the path to Paul's own Primarch ascension, Lucian already had a plan in mind. It just wasn't the right time yet...
Lucian swiped his finger across the display, pulling up a different set of data. "The Horus Heresy is about to begin. In the original timeline, you have Horus, Lorgar, Fulgrim, Angron, Perturabo, Curze, Alpharius-Omegon, Mortarion, and Magnus... Nine Traitor Primarchs, plus their respective Legions, plus the Daemons of Chaos, plus the direct intervention of the four Chaos Gods."
He paused, his voice turning somber. "And what about the Loyalists? Sanguinius will die during the Siege of Terra. Ferrus Manus will be decapitated by Fulgrim on Isstvan V. Guilliman will be stabbed into a vegetative coma by Fulgrim. Dorn will go missing in action. Corax will exile himself... the Khan will vanish... Leman Russ will charge into the Eye of Terror. Vulkan will die in an explosion during the War of the Beast. In the very end, how many Loyalist Primarchs will actually be left standing?"
Lucian's gaze drifted back to the crimson model. "The Crimson Drake Starflame possesses offensive capabilities that rank among the absolute highest of all Primarchs. Combined with his unique abilities and his exclusive Legion... this is the capital Crimson Dawn needs to survive the coming Heresy. It's the only genuine power that will allow them to actually intervene in an all-out war between Legions."
He paused, a small smile curling his lips. "Plus, with this, Crimson Dawn finally gains the ability to forge their own Astartes. Those non-player Aurelian citizens, the human survivors rescued from Planet Dal, the ordinary people willing to bleed for Crimson Dawn... they can all be elevated into Crimson Drake Starflame Astartes. This will no longer be an exclusive player privilege walled behind Imperial Coin transactions. It will be a fully functional Legion that Crimson Dawn can mass-produce on its own."
Lucian's gaze passed through the holographic screens, falling upon the gray-clad figures scurrying about on the surface of Planet Dal. The soldiers of the Dawn Defense Force, the liberated human slaves, the ordinary citizens whose eyes had finally reignited with a spark of hope. "All you need is an opportunity. A chance to evolve from ordinary people into guardians. Will you be able to rewrite the established history? Can you snatch a few Primarchs right out of the hands of the four Chaos Gods and the Emperor? I'm highly looking forward to seeing you slap the Crimson Dawn label onto a few of them."
He withdrew his gaze, looking back at the players fiercely debating amongst themselves on the main screen. "The Crimson Drake Starflame is the sword of victory I'm handing to you. As for how you swing it, and how far your strikes can reach... that's entirely up to you."
Tax Bro was already spamming the chat channel, asking who was volunteering to become the first Crimson Drake Starflame Primarch. Schrödinger Bro was furiously calculating how many Imperial Coins four Titans would cost, and exactly how much they were saving with the half-price discount. Blood Angel, meanwhile, was meticulously planning the quota allocation for the 500 exclusive Astartes augmentations.
[Selling Flatbreads at the Gates of the Imperial Palace] yelled into the comms, "Primarch! Primarch! I wanna be the Primarch!"
[Selling Cola at the Gates of the Imperial Palace] scoffed, "You? A flatbread vendor wants to be a Primarch? Hell, if you get to be a Primarch, then as a cola vendor, I should be the Emperor!"
[Dragon Bro Never Yields] chimed in, "Quit arguing, just let Paul make the call."
[Lemon-Eating Shin-chan] added, "I think Tax Bro is a good fit. He's reckless enough for the job."
[Have You Been Loyal Today?] replied, "White Scars isn't a bad choice either. He's fast enough."
[I'm Not the Regent I'm Just Passing By Guilliman] interrupted, "Actually, I think we should give it to Helovia."
The entire channel fell dead silent for a full second.
[Execute Old Man the War Criminal] asked, "...Are you being serious right now?"
[Grandfather Nurgle Loves All] pointed out, "Helovia as the Primarch? Wouldn't that just make her a dragon girl?"
[I'm Not the Regent I'm Just Passing By Guilliman] shot back, "And what's wrong with a dragon girl? Dragon girls are peak!"
The chat instantly exploded with a wall of "666" spam. (TL/N: In Chinese digital culture, "666" is used to express admiration and means "awesome," "amazing," or "smooth." The Mandarin word for the number six (六, liù) sounds identical to the word for "smooth" or "slick" (溜, liū). When gamers or internet users spam "666" in a chat, they are cheering, applauding a highly skilled play, or praising a great idea.)
Watching this absolute circus of players, Lucian couldn't help but laugh out loud. "These guys... unbelievable."
He shook his head, closing the golden screens and settling comfortably back onto the massive bed. "Keep it up, Crimson Dawn," he murmured. His voice echoed through the vast emptiness of the Divine Realm, carrying a profound, distant sense of anticipation. "The emotional energy generated solely by Aurelian IV just isn't enough to sustain me anymore. Chaos is beginning to stir, and the Horus Heresy is right on the horizon. During the Heresy, you're going to need to conquer at least fifty to a hundred sectors. Only with the System's comprehensive emotional energy network filtering that sheer volume of power will I have a chance to catch up to the four Gods during the subsequent ten-thousand-year era of darkness while they recover from the Emperor's crippling blow."
Lucian closed his eyes. His consciousness slowly sank into the depths of the Warp, merging with a boundless ocean of purified emotional energy. Torrents of this energy were flowing in continuously—from Aurelian IV, from Planet Dal, and from countless other corners of the galaxy currently being touched by Crimson Dawn's influence.
"Let the wildfire of the Crimson Drake illuminate the dawn of humanity," he whispered to himself. "I give that phrase to you, and I keep it for myself as well. If I can amass enough power, I will use the supreme authority of Hope to cast your dawn across the infinite reaches of the Warp. I will let you build a universe where every corner touched by the dawn becomes a true paradise for mankind."
Within the hidden Divine Realm, the young deity's figure slowly drifted into silence. Only the twelve golden holographic screens remained suspended in the air, actively broadcasting the myriad stories unfolding across the Warhammer universe.
--
On Planet Dal, the players were still screaming themselves hoarse arguing over the four Titans and the Primarch augmentation.
--
On the world of Laeran, Fulgrim stood atop the grand dais of his victory celebration, his hand wrapped tightly around the Blade of the Laer as he basked in the roaring cheers of his sons. Deep within his violet eyes, a sinister, pink-purple light was slowly beginning to spread.
--
A transport ship trailed behind a massive logistical fleet, slowly making its way toward Holy Terra. Standing by the viewport, Vance stared out into the endless, pitch-black void, profound emotion flickering in the depths of his eyes.
--
[Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood] was also aboard a transport vessel, this one bound for Ultramar. Surrounded by a group of rowdy, joking players, he stared out at the boundless expanse of the cosmos. "This galaxy really is beautiful! But beneath all this beauty is an endless ocean of blood and tears. I have to get stronger. I need the power to actually change things. Ultramar... Guilliman, Sanguinius, just wait for me."
--
Deep within the most distant, unfathomable reaches of the Warp, Slaanesh lounged upon its throne. Those eyes, which reflected the entire galaxy, narrowed slightly.
"Anomalies scattered across the galaxy..." Its voice was like silk brushing across a razor's edge—infinitely tender, yet profoundly lethal. "Let me see just how much longer you can stay hidden. I have accepted the gift you sent me. I am highly anticipating that you will provide me with the ultimate surprise, and the ultimate sensory experience. If you fail, I will strip away every last shred of your authority and power, and subject you to an eternity of endless pleasure and despair."
--
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