After the long Age of Darkness, Terra, the cradle of humanity, the beating heart of the old Imperium of Man, was united once more.
Humanity cheered with wild fervor, celebrating the glorious victory the great Emperor of Mankind had brought them.
Bonar stood on the elevated platform, watching the Astartes legion formations march past below, one after another.
Twenty legions in total passed in slow procession.
They still looked young and untested, but the edge was already there.
After them came the mortal legions, drawn mostly from the armies of the various warlord factions that had once carved up Terra.
Last came the Thunder Warriors.
The moment they entered the field, the killing intent was palpable.
Their wargear and power armour were far from pristine, plates covered in scratches and dents, faint traces of blood still showing through the surface despite obvious repeated scrubbing.
You could still smell it if you got close enough.
With the Adeptus Custodes absent from the parade, the Thunder Warriors were without question the most ferocious fighting force on display.
By the grace of the Emperor of Mankind, the Thunder Warriors had been allowed to live.
Even so, the Emperor had cancelled every Thunder Warrior production program and redirected all effort toward the manufacture of Astartes.
The survivors were reassigned as Solar System garrison, tasked with defending the Solar System and training Astartes recruits.
More than once, the Thunder Warriors had expressed their hope that the Emperor would take them along on the crusade.
More than once, the Emperor had refused, for reasons he never explained.
His exact words: “Your battlefield is here.”
It left the Thunder Warriors somewhat confused, but they carried out the order faithfully.
And in that place of supreme prominence, a rising star now stood where the sun itself might have stood.
The crowd below was in ecstasy, many with tears streaming down their faces, arms outstretched, crying out at the top of their lungs.
The Imperium’s methods had been brutal.
Most territories had joined only at the point of Imperial guns.
But no one could deny what that conquest had achieved: it had taken the humans of Terra, “beasts that could walk, shoot, and talk”, and made them human beings.
The Emperor pressed one hand down gently.
The cheering faded.
“Citizens of the Imperium.”
“Through our efforts, the most familiar mother of all humanity, Terra — has returned to peace.”
“Though I would very much like to stop here, and let our mother return to her original beauty,”
“, there are still countless millions of our kin out among the stars, living under the exploitation of Xenos.”
“To restore humanity to its former glory, I will launch a great war.
An epic crusade.
To reunite all of mankind and reforge the glory of the human race.”
The crowd erupted as one.
The Emperor departed under the escort of the Adeptus Custodes and returned to his base of operations.
He planned to build a magnificent palace on this site.
He had no desire to exhaust his people on such grand construction, but the palace had to be built.
Malcador the Sigillite and Bonar were already waiting.
“My lord.”
“Father.”
Bonar was visibly excited.
“Are we starting the crusade?”
The Emperor gave a small nod.
“Child, you handled the matter with the Thunder Warriors well.”
Bonar’s face lit up.
“Of course, Father, that’s because I —”
He was already reaching for a certain book, ready to show the Emperor.
A book like this had no business being buried in a pile.
The Emperor raised a hand gently to stop him.
“Child, let it wait.
Malcador and I have something important to discuss.
I’ll come find you shortly.”
Bonar paused.
He gave a slightly downcast nod.
“Alright.
I’ll head back to the library.”
The Emperor looked at the little one, who seemed a touch deflated, and reached out to rest a hand gently on his head.
“You’ve worked hard these past days.”
“It’s nothing.”
Bonar left.
The Emperor and Malcador made their way to the entrance of the palace grounds.
The Imperial Palace.
“My lord, have you decided how you wish to build it?”
“I have.
Not in full detail, but enough.”
“I would hear it.”
The Emperor gestured toward a stretch of open land.
“That will be the starting point.
The starting point from which we complete the great work.”
Malcador gave a quiet nod.
“That will be no small undertaking.
I will help you.”
“Mm.”
Then Malcador sensed it, a trace of hesitation.
That was not something that should appear in this man.
“Is there something else you wish to say?”
“I also want to build dwellings for the children.”
The Emperor pointed to another location.
“There could be a place for the arts.
There, a place for architecture.
And over there,”
Malcador stared at him.
This…
In that moment, he found he could not read his liege.
As though something had touched that great and brilliant light.
Not obscured it.
No.
Not interfered.
Changed.
Then a section of ground in the palace district heaved upward and blew apart, and brilliant, multicolored light erupted from beneath the earth.
Nearby mortals who looked directly at it screamed, terrible, broken sounds, and collapsed to the ground, bodies twisting at angles that should not have been possible.
Vast numbers of indescribable creatures poured from the breach, slaughtering with abandon any warrior who still held their ground.
That place was,
“Legio Custodes — purge these abominations!”
Malcador had not yet processed what was happening when the light of the Warp began appearing in force across the district, shaking the very foundations of Terra’s reality.
He understood what the Emperor had gone to do.
Now it fell to him to hold things steady in his absence.
…
The Emperor blazed through them like a meteor crashing into the sea.
Every Daemon that looked upon his light howled in agony.
They scrambled to avoid the radiance they so despised, only to be cut down by the Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence pressing close behind him.
The wretched creatures burned in that blazing light.
Even Greater Daemons were consumed and annihilated beneath his radiance.
When the Emperor broke through to the core area, he was very nearly beside himself with rage.
The laboratory was empty.
Equipment lay scattered and toppled across the floor.
The life-support installations that had housed the Incubation Pods stood vacant.
One remained, held in the hands of a certain pointy-eared figure.
A beauty whose face would make even the most stunning Aeldari feel ashamed.
An allure potent enough to drive even the most resolute of monks to madness.
Slaanesh blinked, casting a glance at the large golden figure before them.
A tongue flicked out.
A smile spread.
Slaanesh tossed the last Incubation Pod into the Warp and gave a cheerful little wave.
“Hi!
Hello there.
First time meeting, are you the one they call the ‘Cursed One’?”
Boundless fury rose from within him.
The next instant, a blade wreathed in burning flame swept through the neck.
No resistance whatsoever.
Only a thin, pitiful voice drifting up from behind.
“Hey, hey, hey, why so violent?
I just helped you get rid of the Aeldari, you know.
They really loved bullying humans.”
The only reply was radiance and fire.
In an instant, the entire laboratory became a sea of burning magma.
“Heh heh~~ See you next time.”
He turned.
Nothing there.
The Emperor, seething, very nearly destroyed everything within reach, but steadied himself quickly.
They could have taken it quietly.
So why make such an enormous scene?
Even a mindless madman like Slaanesh, when faced with a cost that great, would stop and think.
If…
In that instant, even the Emperor, always cold, always unyielding, felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Dread.
Their target wasn’t here at all?