According to the original plan, Athena and Hera were to lead a thousand Greek demigods, alongside a thousand Grey Knights, forming a purging task force in coordination with the Word Bearers and Night Lords Legions, heading straight for the fallen world of Coruscant to carry out the mission of cleansing Chaos.
However, following Darth Vader's Chaos-led assault on Tatooine, Samuel Young was forced to temporarily alter the strategic deployment.
He immediately ordered a full mobilization of the Battle Sisters, Knight-Brothers, and the Ironwing squadron, along with Nilenhog, to be dispatched instantly to Tatooine via a large-scale warp portal.
This decision consumed an immense amount of psychic power, but ensured that Tatooine's defense line didn't collapse under Chaos's initial wave of assault.
Meanwhile, the Greek demigods and Grey Knights continued with the original plan.
After crossing the portal, they quickly rendezvoused with the Word Bearers and Night Lords, forming a joint force that advanced toward Coruscant—the current stronghold of Chaos.
Their mission: to thoroughly cleanse the corrupted planet, destroy the Warp rifts, and sever the Chaos forces' main invasion conduit.
On the broader front, Dorn and Perturabo continued reinforcing the Imperium's defensive lines to ensure stability in the rear.
Under their command, the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors Legions were not only constructing robust defensive systems, but also assisting the Sons of Shattered Flesh in purging the remnants of the Galactic Empire and preventing further Chaos corruption.
These shifts in deployment may have disrupted some tactical timelines, but they secured the Imperium's advantage across two key strategic fronts.
In front of the Golden Throne, the strategic sandtable shimmered with countless light points—each representing a front line where the Imperium was making steady advances in the Star Wars universe.
Samuel Young studied this star chart. His deep gaze pierced through the layers of data—although gradual expansion consumed vast resources and manpower, from a long-term strategic perspective, it was undeniably the most stable choice.
As occupied territories grew, the Imperium was forming a sustainable strategic loop.
Each newly conquered star system not only contributed rich mineral resources but also provided a vast pool of conscriptable population.
The manufactorums of Forge Worlds operated around the clock, converting captured enemy warships into Imperial vessels. On liberated human colonies, long queues of able-bodied youths lined up for recruitment screenings.
This snowballing "war-feeds-war" development model was accelerating the machinery of the Imperium's conquest at an ever-faster pace.
In terms of species integration within occupied zones, the Imperium adopted a pragmatic approach.
Certain xeno species with partial human genetic compatibility, such as the Twi'leks, were classified as "abhumans."
Although these species had no reproductive isolation from humanity, Samuel Young didn't even need the Bio-Department's detailed reports to know—offspring born of human-xeno hybrids had severe incompatibility issues with gene-seed implantation.
Such hybrids could not endure the transformation into Astartes; their genetic chains would collapse upon organ grafting.
By contrast, abhumans from Terra-related origins—elves, dwarves, even vampires and werewolves from the main universe—showed astonishing compatibility.
At their core, their genetic code was still human, merely exhibiting different dominant traits.
This distinction would shape the Imperium's future recruitment policy: only those with pure human-compatible genomes could aspire to join the ranks of Space Marines.
Of course, compared to the Warhammer 40k Imperium, Samuel Young's human empire was "milder" in approach.
At that moment, in the holographic projection before the Golden Throne, a planet completely covered in blue ocean spun slowly.
Samuel Young's gaze penetrated the cloud layers, landing on the slender cities rising from the roaring waves—
Kamino, the ocean world famed for its genetic technology, was now glimmering with "temptation."
And the data stream began rendering the Kaminoans in full detail.
They had tall, slender bodies like precise measuring instruments, translucent white skin beneath which flowed a network of faintly blue blood vessels.
Their large, glass-like eyes seemed to see genetic sequences invisible even under microscopes. Their thin fingers danced across gene encoders with surgical precision ten times greater than any human doctor.
The hologram of Tipoca City unfolded before the Emperor—a metropolis supported by countless alloy pillars, its architectural curves elegant as double helix strands of DNA.
But beneath this elegance hid a deeply unsettling truth.
According to Magnus's report, the Kaminoans viewed genetic editing as pure artistic creation.
They had custom-designed venom-secreting dancers for black market clients, bred pain-insensitive assassins for crime syndicates, and—most infamously—mass-produced millions of clone troopers for the Galactic Republic who never had a childhood.
These lives, born in test tubes, were written into death from the moment of conception.
Samuel Young slid his finger through the void, and more holographic images rippled forth.
In the deep-blue fluid of their vats, hundreds of identical faces floated—some still embryonic flesh blobs, others nearly grown warriors.
This industrial method of life manufacturing astonished and disgusted even the most seasoned technicians of the Bio-Department.
The data comparisons revealed a clear difference—
Imperial clones, like the Atlan series, were precision-built mechanisms. Their brains had obedience protocols etched in from birth.
Those pale faces would never dream, never question, and felt no fear at the moment of death.
To the Bio-Department, they were simply breathing weapons.
But when the hologram shifted to Kamino's clone vats, each clone was dreaming. Their brainwave monitors displayed unique fluctuation patterns.
Even more astonishing were the spectrometer readings—those faint blue energy fields indicated that actual souls might reside within these replicated bodies.
Imperial clone tanks took twenty days to grow a combat unit. Kaminoans took two full years.
The hologram displayed a nervous system comparison.
Imperial clones resembled carefully pruned bonsai trees. Kamino clones' neural synapses grew wildly—like untamed trees in a rainforest.
Samuel Young's gaze lingered on one clone who, through the vat glass, was "observing" the world.
The young one blinked slowly in the liquid. A curious light sparkled in his eyes—something that should not exist in the eyes of a mass-produced war machine.
Now Samuel Young fully understood why, in Star Wars, the Jedi had fought for clone rights.
Because these were not merely "tools"—they were people with pre-written expiration dates.
The data stream revealed more of this aquatic race's nature.
The Kaminoans were like biologically-operating computers. Their ethics differed drastically from most civilizations.
As a species reproducing asexually, they saw gene engineering as pure art. Their archives held blueprints for biological weapons tailored to hundreds of species, each rated by customer satisfaction—with no trace of moral risk assessments.
Samuel Young had to admit: Kaminoan cloning tech was truly impressive.
According to intelligence from the Scarif campaign, their clones matched Imperial bioweapons in muscle density, reflexes, and battlefield adaptability.
Most notably, their genetic stability—even after dozens of generations of replication, they retained near-perfect original traits.
Thus, as the Star Wars unification progressed, Samuel Young prepared to bring the Kaminoans into the fold—standardizing and regulating their cloning production.
But only under strict Imperial control mechanisms.
The corresponding policy floated into view on the holomap—retaining their genetic precision, but embedding them with standard Imperial compliance protocols.
Most importantly: completely remove the gestation modules. All vats would produce only mindless, obedient combat shells.
Samuel Young understood the unpredictability of souls—no matter how perfect the clone, free will could become Chaos's wedge of corruption.
With a final gesture, the glowing-blue projections dissipated like smoke into the air of the Meditation Hall.
Then, Samuel Young completed his brief review of the Star Wars war theater.
As expected, with the loss of Darth Vader as core commander, the heretic and daemon forces descended into chaos. Enemy units became scattered and leaderless—like beheaded serpents, still writhing, but lacking coordinated offense.
The tactical starmap once blotted with red had fractured into dozens of isolated hot zones.
Some heretic fleets had devolved into rogue Chaos warbands, even turning on each other to compete for sacrificial-rich worlds.
These enemies remained dangerous, but no longer posed an existential threat.
This fragmentation greatly relieved pressure on Imperial frontlines, especially for those stranded on Tatooine like Sigismund. But Samuel Young knew—as long as Coruscant's Warp rift remained, the situation could always reverse.
Thus, Lorgar and Konrad had to neutralize Coruscant swiftly.
Otherwise, if Chaos Primarchs or Daemon Astartes from Warhammer 40k crossed into that dimension, it would devolve into a long, drawn-out war of attrition.
And the Alphas Samuel Young had deployed into Warhammer 40k couldn't relay any intelligence—neither tech nor psychic "dream messages" were safe from daemonic detection.
Those "kids" would have to rely on themselves. But Samuel Young had full confidence in them.
Even in peril—they would prevail.
At this point, the Emperor reclined slightly on the Golden Throne.
He had no worries about Lorgar and Konrad.
Though their combat styles were polar opposites—Lorgar's burning zeal like golden flame, Konrad's tactics like creeping shadow—they shared his blood.
They were his sons. Greater than Athena or Hera, not requiring his interference.
Just as every father must eventually let his children stand alone, Samuel Young knew well the art of leading Primarchs.
Overinvolvement would only diminish their authority and damage their pride. These perfect creations hated being coddled.
Unless their very lives were at stake—Samuel Young would not intervene.
And so, he turned his focus to other matters.
One Terran day later—
When Yavin IV's reinforcements tore through the fabric of reality above Tatooine, the twin suns seemed to darken.
Nearly a hundred Imperial Fist warships unleashed a simultaneous barrage—prow-mounted cannons lit up the heavens like resurgent totems of war.
The Chaos fleets in orbit were caught in a thunderstorm of steel—
Railguns and gauss arcs wove webs of blue fire, while plasma detonations painted the void with searing light—Chaos formations shattered in moments.
On the ground, Athena's Spear of Victory became a golden bolt across the sky.
It pierced three retreating Chaos cruisers, erupting in Warp-tainted fireballs.
From the desert's highest peak, Hera chanted ancient verses.
Near-orbit space sprouted thorned olive vines that defied physics, writhing around Chaos ships—purging hull and crew alike into gray blossom ash.
At last—Tatooine's crisis had been quelled.
But Sigismund's Fists and the planet's civilians had paid dearly.
The dead lay in mountains. Those not evacuated in time either became Warp-fused zombies or daemon offerings.
The most tragic was the fate of Jabba the Hutt.
Once the Outer Rim's criminal kingpin, his bloated corpse was torn apart like a cake by Nurgle daemons.
As their teeth shredded his fat, Jabba managed a strange, peaceful smile in the agony. Perhaps compared to slow Chaos corruption, instant death was a mercy.
Meanwhile, the refugee fleet that had evacuated millions from Tatooine returned to Yavin IV for resupply.
And as warp portals opened—
The Word Bearers and Night Lords, led by two Primarchs, emerged from warp travel—arriving at the star system housing Coruscant.
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I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS (Chapter 79)
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 391)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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