"What exactly are your origins?"
The three exchanged glances before the black-robed Custodian, Leonardo, finally took the initiative to ask.
Rowan pondered for a moment, reflecting on his own background, intending to find an explanation that would be easily digestible for the denizens of this universe.
"Before I answer that question, are you aware of how the Emperor forged the twenty-one Primarchs?"
"...Are there not nine Primarchs? Where did twenty-one come from?"
Living Saint Lucia's face was a portrait of confusion.
"What... are there not exactly eighteen Primarchs in total?"
Inquisitor Cybia fell into deep thought, a glimmer of sheer excitement slowly creeping into her eyes.
As an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus, she instinctively felt that a colossal, paradigm-shifting secret was buried within this discrepancy.
"Are there not twenty Primarchs? Who is the remaining one?"
Custodian Leonardo offered his own answer.
Perfect. This is the Imperium in a nutshell: minor and major secrets buried in every corner.
Every faction harbored its own hidden agendas and calculated schemes. The ultimate result was a galaxy where everyone hoarded mountains of secrets, yet absolutely no one possessed the complete picture.
It was like a group of stray cats that were supposed to huddle together for warmth, but instead arched their backs like frightened Spinosauri, hissing and swiping at one another.
Rowan felt a trace of exasperation.
He first looked at Lucia and provided a concise explanation: "The Primarchs created by the Emperor were not merely the nine glorified by Ecclesiarchy propaganda. The nine traitor Astartes Legions also possessed their own Primarchs; their existence was simply purged from historical records by the High Lords due to their betrayal of mankind."
Lucia: "Ah?"
Next, Rowan turned to Inquisitor Cybia:
"Initially, there were exactly twenty Legions. However, two additional Primarchs, along with their respective Legions, were expunged from all records by the Emperor for unknown reasons during the Great Crusade."
Cybia: "Ah?"
Finally, he looked toward Leonardo, his explanation even more succinct: "The Twentieth Legion, the Alpha Legion, possesses two Primarchs: Alpharius and Omegon."
Leonardo's pupils contracted sharply.
Having absorbed these devastating truths, the three exchanged bewildered glances, their transhuman and augmented minds reeling from the sheer magnitude of these revelations.
Ultimately, they all cast questioning gazes back toward Rowan. Though they spoke no words, the absolute intent in their eyes was blindingly clear:
How in the warp do you know this?
Rowan merely shrugged and continued:
"Let us return to the original question. Regarding the Emperor's process of forging the Primarchs—at some unknown point in the past, He ventured into the deepest abysses of the immaterium, to a place where even the Ruinous Powers hesitate to tread. Using incomprehensible methods, He extracted twenty coalesced warp essences, and through His unparalleled mastery of genetic alchemy, synthesized them into the physical vessels of the Primarchs."
"Is... is this truly knowledge we are permitted to hear?"
After a moment of dead silence, Lucia could not help but speak up. "To be perfectly honest, had anyone spoken these words before me in the past, I would have highly likely... no, absolutely sent them to the pyre."
"And utilized a slow-burning flame, at that."
Cybia seamlessly added to the sentiment, offering her own dry critique.
"...After ten millennia had passed, the Emperor decided to undertake another highly volatile experiment. Although, I am entirely unaware of how exactly He accomplished it this time, He undoubtedly succeeded."
"This time, He utilized a different medium, entirely bypassing the immaterium... In short, the result of His experiment is that He successfully anchored me into this universe."
Rowan reached out, pointing at himself.
"You are a Primarch?"
Custodian Leonardo was the first to voice his skepticism.
Such a claim—"I am the Son of God"—carried an unbearably suffocating weight within the fanatically religious atmosphere of the Imperium.
"However, historical archives dictate that the Primarchs possessed apocalyptic might, yet I do not perceive any catastrophic threat emanating from your physical form."
"Do not conflate me with the Primarchs; we are two fundamentally different constructs..."
Rowan smiled. "Never mind. Perhaps it would be more intuitive if I directly demonstrate exactly what an architect of reality is."
He pondered for a moment, then nodded toward the Custodian. "Apologies. Forgive the intrusion."
Leonardo let out a muffled grunt, feeling as if a microscopic breach had been forced open within his mind. A silent, imperceptible gaze slid through this opening, slowly sweeping across his memories and consciousness.
Violently suppressing the instinctual urge to draw his blade, the Custodian stood perfectly still, entirely relinquishing all resistance.
Fortunately, the gaze merely skimmed the surface, making no attempt to delve into his deeper psyche.
"My apologies. I merely wished to extract a specific 'blueprint' from your memories. I possess no interest in your other secrets."
Rowan spoke as he extended his hand.
Before their very eyes, the incredibly dense alloy-ceramite deck plating of the cruiser suddenly lost its physical cohesion. Transmuting from a solid state into a highly malleable liquid, it surged upward according to Rowan's will, coalescing into a towering cylinder that slowly expanded and contracted like a breathing chrysalis.
Rowan plunged his hand forcefully into the chrysalis. Frantically recalling the technical specifications he had just extracted from Leonardo's mind, he engaged his absolute dominion over the materium.
Structural definition. Material transmutation. Molecular reconstruction.
A moment later, Rowan exhaled deeply and withdrew his hand, attempting to soothe his significantly strained mental faculties.
Currently, utilizing an ontological imposition of this magnitude as a mere secondary-grade architect inflicted a highly palpable toll upon his stamina.
The liquefied ceramite rapidly receded, seamlessly fusing back into the deck plating.
And revealed before the eyes of the onlookers stood a staggeringly massive, heavy suit of power armor, radiating a blindingly brilliant auric sheen. Every inch of its plating was inscribed with masterful, glorious heraldry, while a towering red plume rose from the crown of its helm.
"What is this?"
Lucia furrowed her brow and turned to look at the other two, only to find the faces of the Inquisitor and the Custodian etched with absolute, unadulterated shock.
Leonardo, in particular, had his ordinarily handsome, stoic features entirely contorted by sheer disbelief, his eyes bulging so widely they appeared ready to burst from their sockets.
"Allarus Terminator Armor?!"
Finally, Leonardo could no longer contain himself, crying out in shock.
"You may test it yourself; this is no mere replica."
Rowan extended his hand in an inviting gesture.
Following his words, the colossal power armor autonomously disassembled into its component pieces, levitating through the air and aggressively encasing Leonardo's form.
The Custodian began donning the armor with profound skepticism. However, the exact instant the mechanical joints locked into place, the machine spirit roared to life in an ecstatic frenzy. The Terminator plate seamlessly synchronized with his transhuman physiology, and a tidal wave of apocalyptic power surged through him, absolutely confirming the authenticity of what had just occurred.
It was a perfectly functional, completely authentic suit of Allarus Terminator Armor!
"Are you joking?!"
Cybia completely lost her composure. "This is a bespoke variant of Terminator plate utilized exclusively by the Ten Thousand! It is forged entirely from unfathomably rare auramite, said to be worth the gross domestic product of an entire civilized world! Its resilience is capable of weathering the shockwaves of macro-cannon orbital bombardments! And you just..."
She lowered her gaze, staring at the deck plating beneath their feet, then stomped down forcefully. "...Fabricated it with your bare hands out of mere ceramite?! How in the Emperor's name did you do that?!"
"This is the authority of a reality architect."
Rowan spread his hands. "To me, the underlying essence of all matter is merely an expression of objective reality. So long as its existential density—its Hume level—permits my alterations... then in my eyes, there is absolutely no difference between any two substances."