The next day.
Sejanus and his delegation departed from the Vengeful Spirit.
As the shuttle broke through the final layer of clouds, Sejanus's gaze fell out the window once more.
The city below was magnificent and grand, looking exactly like the Holy Terra of his memories.
But this time, he could spot the differences.
The hives, though towering, were at least a third shorter than those on the real Terra.
The transit networks, though bustling, lacked the suffocating, endless density of the true throneworld.
The massive bulwark below was imposing, but it was only half the height of the Eternity Wall.
Sejanus's heart finally settled back into his chest.
He let out a heavy breath. It carried a massive dose of relief, along with a trace of gladness he didn't even notice himself.
Thank the Emperor.
Thank the Emperor it isn't real.
Thank the Emperor this whole thing is just a cheap knockoff.
Thank the Emperor the real Terra is still out there in that distant sector, still standing tall at the cradle of human civilization, still...
Still watched over by the true Emperor.
[Undying Silver Lone Wolf] sat across from him, catching every subtle shift in Sejanus's expression.
He roasted the guy in his head:
Bro, you have no idea. The look on your face right now is like a kid checking his SAT scores and realizing he just got into an Ivy League.
You were a second away from shouting 'We're so back!' out loud.
Of course, he kept those thoughts to himself.
On the outside, he maintained a face as cold and hard as iron, acting like he couldn't care less about what was outside the window.
The shuttle continued its descent.
The sprawling city below grew clearer by the second.
The intricate details of the hives, the layout of the streets, the architectural styles...
Sejanus scanned the view, silently memorizing every single detail.
The Central Province.
The High City.
This was the absolute core of the planet, the residence of the heretic who dared to call himself the Emperor.
A golden palace complex loomed at the edge of the horizon.
Massive domes gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, surrounded by countless exquisite spires piercing the sky.
The shuttle slowly lowered its altitude, making a beeline toward the sprawling palace.
The chassis shuddered slightly the moment the landing gear touched down.
The ramp lowered.
Sejanus was the first to step out of the cabin.
His boots hit the mirror-polished floor with a crisp, echoing clack.
Before him stretched a massive plaza.
At the far end of the plaza sat a golden palace.
Its design was a carbon copy of the Imperial Palace on Holy Terra.
The golden spires, the colossal domes, the intricate reliefs...
Everything screamed to visitors that this was the beating heart of the Imperium of Man.
But Sejanus knew it was a fake.
A painstaking effort, sure, but a counterfeit that fell apart the moment you compared it to the real deal.
Both sides of the plaza were lined with soldiers in golden armor.
They stood at attention, polearms polished to a mirror shine, faces set in solemn, dignified expressions.
But to Sejanus, they were just sheep in wolves' clothing.
He could see right through it—the shoddy craftsmanship of their armor, the standard-issue materials of their halberds, and the look in their eyes...
They completely lacked the killer instinct of true warriors.
They couldn't even hold a candle to regular Astartes, let alone the actual Adeptus Custodes of Holy Terra.
Behind Sejanus, ten elite honor guards from the Luna Wolves filed out.
Pristine white artificer armor, silver-grey wolf head insignias, and faces carved from stone...
They stood there like ten actual wolves dropped into the middle of a flock of sheep.
Following right behind them, twenty mortal soldiers in dark grey uniforms marched off the shuttle.
--
[Undying Silver Lone Wolf] led the pack at the very front of the mortal squad.
He wasn't wearing power armor, just a standard-issue Imperial Auxilia uniform.
A lasgun hung at his hip, a tactical knife was strapped to his thigh, and he wore a specialized tactical backpack on his shoulders.
His face was the kind of totally average mug that would instantly disappear in a crowd.
But his eyes...
Those eyes were quietly scanning and analyzing absolutely everything around him.
The layout of the palace, the positioning of the guards, potential cover, possible sniper vantage points...
He silently logged every single detail.
So these are big bro Sejanus's personal bodyguards, he thought to himself.
Sure, to an Astartes, they're basically just cannon fodder.
But compared to the absolute scrubs guarding this place, they're top-tier elites.
His eyes lingered on the main gates of the palace for a split second.
A man in a crisp golden officer's uniform was striding purposefully toward them.
The guy was ruggedly handsome, stood tall, and marched with the unmistakable, rhythmic cadence of a career military man.
He had "seasoned veteran" written all over him.
He stopped exactly three meters in front of Sejanus, slammed his right fist over his left breast, and delivered a textbook Imperial Aquila salute.
The movement was so flawlessly executed you couldn't nitpick it if you tried.
"Honored guests, welcome to Holy Terra."
His voice boomed out, carrying a strictly business, professional courtesy. "I am Cassius Valentine, Commander of the High City Palace Guard."
"I have been ordered by His Majesty, the Emperor, to welcome you all."
"Please, follow me."
Sejanus gave a slight nod.
Without a word, he stepped forward and followed the commander.
The ten Luna Wolves stayed hot on his heels.
The twenty personal guards brought up the rear.
The group crossed the massive plaza, passed under three colossal archways, and finally arrived at the main entrance of the golden palace.
The adamantium doors, standing a towering hundred feet tall, slowly groaned open.
Behind them rolled out a crimson carpet stretching over three hundred feet.
At the very end of the carpet was a raised dais.
Atop the dais sat a gargantuan throne.
And on that throne sat a man.
That face...
Sejanus's brow furrowed just a fraction.
A seventy percent match.
It was genuinely a seventy percent match.
The eyes, the facial structure, the posture...
If this guy stood next to the real Emperor, at least a third of everyday citizens would probably mix them up.
But the aura was completely wrong.
When the real Emperor stood before you, He didn't need to speak or move; His mere existence was enough to freeze the space around Him.
It was a pressure that transcended mortal comprehension, the sheer might of the ruler of the entire human race manifesting on a physical plane.
But this guy in front of him...
He was trying way too hard to fake that vibe.
He was trying desperately to look majestic.
But that try-hard effort was exactly what gave him away.
That forced, manufactured solemnity...
Sejanus's footsteps hitched for a split second the moment he crossed the threshold into the great hall.
Because...
It was way too empty.
This throne room was big enough to hold thousands of people, yet right now, besides the guy on the throne, there were only a handful of red-robed priests huddled in the corners.
There wasn't a single decent guard in sight.
Sejanus's frown deepened.
Something was wrong.
He had butchered his way through countless warzones during the Great Crusade; what kind of traps hadn't he seen?
This whole setup... it was way too unnatural.
His combat instincts instantly flared up, putting him on high alert.
--
NOTE:
Since people clearly don't like how the story is currently going (we fell from the Top 100 to completely out of the rankings), I wanted to stop translating this book.
However, because some of you still enjoy it, I will continue.
That said, I will only upload 1 chapter daily instead of 2 from tomorrow, as I want to focus more on my other books!
Though you all will get more chapter If people simply start donating Powerstones to this fic again!
Also I would appreciate anyone who joins my patreon to support me since that's a huge help that gives me more time to translate instead of doing odd jobs for money!
Have a good day, BYE!