The Outer Palace Administratum District.
The jetbikes finally came to a complete halt in the center of an unimaginably massive plaza.
Vance was hauled off the jetbike by two Custodians. The moment his boots hit the ground, he spotted Darius on another bike.
The old man was currently surrounded by five Custodians, about to be led away in the opposite direction.
Their eyes met in the air.
Darius's lips moved, silently mouthing two words...
Survive this.
Vance swallowed hard, wanting to say something, but found his voice completely caught in his throat.
He simply nodded.
And then, they were taken in separate directions.
Escorted by Valdor and the remaining five Custodians, Vance was marched through the expansive corridors of the Outer Palace Administratum District until they arrived before a colossal domed structure.
Vance looked up and saw the High Gothic script carved above the entrance.
The Hall of Hegemon.
The Custodians ushered him through the massive doors and into the grand hall.
It was a circular chamber soaring hundreds of meters high. The vaulted ceiling was embedded with countless soft-glowing crystals, bathing the entire hall in a warm, golden halo. Dead center in the room stood a hundred-meter-tall statue of the Emperor. The stone visage stared downward in absolute judgment, devoid of any expression.
The Custodian holding Vance suddenly released him. Vance stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face.
When he regained his balance and looked back... the five Custodians had already exited the hall. The outer layer of heavy metallic doors slowly ground shut behind him with a resonant boom.
Only he and the golden titan remained in the Hall of Hegemon.
Constantin Valdor.
The Captain-General stood exactly three meters away from him. The light piercing through the slits of his golden helm was locked squarely on Vance.
Valdor slowly spoke. His voice remained cool and detached, but this time, it carried a hint of... scrutiny.
"Your soul and inner nature are highly unusual," Valdor stated, his tone incredibly flat, completely devoid of emotion. "Though you try your utmost to conceal it, it cannot escape my eyes."
Vance stood rooted to the spot, keeping his mouth shut.
He just stared at the massive golden demigod before him, a chaotic storm of emotions swirling in his gut.
Constantin Valdor. The Captain-General of the Custodian Guard. The Emperor's most trusted confidant. The undisputed strongest mortal warrior in existence during this era, second only to the Primarchs themselves.
And right now, this monster was standing right in front of him, scrutinizing him.
To say he wasn't nervous would be a lie. But overpowering that nervousness was an indescribable surge of... excitement.
This was the Captain-General of the Custodian Guard. The absolute strongest mortal warrior in all of human history. The only mortal who could go toe-to-toe with a Primarch and live to tell the tale. And during the future Siege of Terra, Valdor would tear through the traitor lines as if they were made of paper, slaughtering Chaos Space Marines like he was chopping vegetables. He would even directly clash with and wound the pointy-haired future Warmaster of Chaos—the Champion of the Four Gods, current First Captain of the Sons of Horus, Ezekyle Abaddon.
Valdor paid no mind to Vance's silence. He simply raised a hand, pointing toward a door on the left side of the hall.
The door was ten meters high, forged entirely from solid gold, its surface intricately carved with the Emperor's holy sigils.
"Go inside," Valdor commanded. "His Greatness, the Emperor, is waiting for you. He wishes to see you."
Vance's brain suffered a complete and total crash in that very second.
What?
The Emperor?
Wants to see ME?
The being who sits upon the Golden Throne? The god who rules the entire galactic Imperium of Man? The Emperor I've only ever read about in lore and novels, never even dreaming I'd actually get to meet?!
Holy shit.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
No matter how calm and collected he usually was, Vance couldn't stop his internal monologue from absolutely losing its mind.
The fucking Emperor wants to see me?!
Neoth!!
The man who sits upon the Golden Throne, commands the Imperium, and makes countless Primarchs go absolutely feral for an ounce of fatherly love... wants to see ME?!
Vance's heart was hammering against his ribs. Yet his body moved as if pulled by an invisible string, his feet slowly stepping toward the golden door.
One step. Two steps. Three.
His pace was agonizingly slow, but he walked resolutely toward the entrance.
The ten-meter-tall golden doors slowly drifted open before him.
Beyond the threshold lay a blinding expanse of light, bright as midday.
Vance took a deep breath and stepped through.
The doors slowly sealed shut behind him.
The chamber within was bathed in daylight. The glow wasn't blinding; instead, it radiated a deep, comforting warmth, like a mother's embrace, or the sun shining over one's hometown.
Vance's eyes gradually adjusted to the brilliance.
He took in his surroundings. This space was even more vast and open than the Hall of Hegemon. Hundreds of meters above, golden runes drifted slowly across the vaulted ceiling like a river of stars. The walls weren't solid bulkheads; they were massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
Beyond the glass stood the boundless hive spires of the Eternity City. Those cloud-piercing structures, the crisscrossing transit lanes, the dense throngs of humanity packed like ants—all of it lay beneath his feet.
And standing before the massive window on the left side of the hall, with his back turned to Vance, was a figure.
Standing over four meters tall, clad in a unique, master-crafted suit of auric armor.
The gilded plating was etched with countless intricate litanies and holy sigils, the engravings depicting the epic saga of the Unification Wars and the Great Crusade. A golden cape draped from his shoulders, radiating a breathtaking aura of psychic power. A double-headed aquila spread its wings across his pauldrons. In the very center of his breastplate sat a gemstone the size of a fist, burning with what looked like an eternal, inextinguishable flame.
A laurel wreath rested upon his head, his long black hair cascading down his back.
And his face...
It was a face so devastatingly handsome it would make any masterpiece of art look like amateur trash.
A high-bridged nose. A sharply chiseled jawline. Thin lips pressed slightly together, carrying the faintest trace of a smile.
But what shook Vance to his absolute core were those eyes.
They were pools of liquid gold.
Deep within those pupils, the entire galaxy seemed to be reflected. Countless stars being born, burning bright, and dying out. The infinite, intertwined destinies of humanity clashing and continuing onward.
Those were the eyes of an emperor.
Those were... the eyes of a god.
It was perfection in its purest, most absolute form.
Not the forced, desperately cultivated artistic perfection of Fulgrim. This was an innate, entirely natural perfection that completely transcended all mortal comprehension.
That face flawlessly synthesized every beautiful trait in existence. Majesty and benevolence. Rationality and emotion. Divinity and humanity. All of it coexisted in perfect harmony upon a single visage.
Just looking at him invoked an overwhelming, instinctual urge to drop to one's knees and worship.
Vance's mind went completely blank.
He recalled the endless debates he'd read on the Warhammer forums...
What does the Emperor actually look like? Some say He's just a rotting skeleton. Some say He's a weathered, middle-aged man. Some say He's a cold, ruthless tyrant.
But standing here, looking at this figure, Vance only had one thought.
Fulgrim's bullshit idea of 'perfection' compared to the man standing right here is like comparing the radiant moon to a rock at the bottom of an outhouse.
In that split second, Vance finally understood.
He understood why the Primarchs so desperately craved this man's approval. He understood why Fulgrim drove himself insane trying to be the perfect son. He understood why Perturabo practically killed himself trying to earn this man's praise.
Because the man standing right in front of him... was worth absolutely everything.
Vance took a deep breath. He knew he couldn't afford to show any abnormalities right now.
So, perfectly mimicking the customs of this world, he slammed his right fist against his chest and shouted with impassioned fervor, "I stand before His Greatness, the Emperor!"
The second the words left his mouth, he found he couldn't move a single muscle.
An invisible force surged from all directions, pinning him firmly in place. The pressure wasn't crushing—it was actually quite gentle. But it was omnipresent, and absolutely irresistible.
The Emperor looked at him.
Those golden eyes locked onto Vance's.
What kind of gaze was that? Vance couldn't even begin to describe it.
He only knew that under the weight of that stare, every single secret he possessed was completely stripped away. His past. His present. His future. Every passing thought, every buried idea, every dark secret hidden in the deepest recesses of his heart.
Absolutely everything was laid bare before those eyes.
The Emperor slowly began to walk toward him. His steps were unhurried, carrying an indescribable, almost musical rhythm.
When He finally stopped in front of Vance, the minute details of that face became clear.
It was even more perfect up close. No wonder so many straight guys back in the real world... spent all day giggling at gender-bent fanart of the Emperor.
The Emperor slowly parted His lips.
His voice was deep, carrying a weathered age that transcended time, layered with an indescribable, bone-deep... loneliness.
"There is no need to maintain your facade before me," the Emperor said softly. "I know exactly why you have come. I know you possess the ability to rapidly accrue strength. And I know..." He paused, his golden eyes staring straight through Vance. "...that you wish to change the Imperium."