Sui Meng.
This was the first child Samuel Young had ever named with his own hand—his "true" offspring.
The infant in swaddling clothes wore a peaceful expression. His features already bore a striking resemblance to Samuel Young: the same outline, the same lines along the bridge of the nose.
As Samuel Young's thumb brushed gently across the baby's delicate cheek, the warm touch stirred a flicker of complex emotion in his eyes.
"He looks just like you,"
Athena said softly, a trace of undisguised joy in her eyes.
She stepped forward half a pace and delicately adjusted Samuel Young's robe collar, as if she'd done so countless times before.
Samuel Young didn't flinch or step away, only lowered his gaze in silence.
There had never been any definitive record in Warhammer 40k about the two missing Primarch Legions. And now, it was he who had "filled in" one of them. It only further proved that Samuel Young was indeed a counterpart of the Emperor of Mankind from the Warhammer 40k universe.
After all, this Primarch—Sui Meng—looked so much like him, or rather, like one of the Emperor's own aspects.
If he weren't, the Emperor wouldn't have yanked him from a hotpot restaurant in another universe and forced him into this life of interdimensional "hard labor."
But Samuel Young had long since accepted it. He felt no resentment.
…Though if the Emperor were standing in front of him now, that would be a different story.
"Being named by Your Majesty is his great honor," Athena said, her gaze drifting between Samuel Young and the infant, lips curved slightly. "And among all the Primarchs, this child's features are the most like yours."
The hall fell into a brief silence.
The Imperial Guards stood like statues on either side, while Ap and Melissa stood not far away, data streams flickering silently in their eyes.
"These years…" Samuel Young finally spoke, voice low. "You've endured a lot."
Athena chuckled softly, her fingers brushing lightly over his wrist. "Your Majesty is too kind. Easing your burdens is my duty."
Her tone was gentle, but carried a private, shared understanding between the two.
Samuel Young's gaze returned to the infant.
At some point, the child had awakened and was now staring up at him with curious, clear eyes.
"Beyond the integration of Universe 18 (StarCraft), the threat of Chaos grows ever nearer," Samuel Young said, his tone sharpening. "His development must not be delayed. His legion must also be set into motion as soon as possible."
"I will see to it, Your Majesty," Athena replied smoothly. "I will pass on all I know to him… so that he may become the next God of War for the Human Empire."
"Good," Samuel Young nodded. "I'll entrust him to your full care—education, training, upbringing. If he reaches a rebellious phase… send him to me."
"As you command."
Athena dipped her head slightly, her golden hair hiding the smile at her lips.
Primarchs, while far superior to ordinary children and capable of reaching maturity within two years under normal conditions, still passed through human developmental stages—rebellious phases included.
While having doting parents was a blessing, Athena's temperament made her prone to spoiling Sui Meng. If it came to that, it would fall to Samuel Young to personally "correct" any bad habits his son might develop.
When Athena raised her head again, her expression had returned to normal.
"What do you intend to do with those operatives?" she asked.
Samuel Young handed the smiling Sui Meng back to her. "We'll see what they're worth."
"And if they prove ungrateful?" Athena received Sui Meng with featherlight care, as though holding the world's most precious treasure.
Samuel Young turned toward the throne, the hem of his robe cutting a sharp arc through the air. "Then I'll show them what a real psionicist is."
Athena watched his retreating figure, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
Samuel Young's voice rang out again from the direction of the throne: "Take him back. Won't be two months before that kid starts causing trouble."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Athena bowed in farewell. As she turned, her fingertip lightly brushed her lips, sending a meaningful glance back toward the throne.
The Goddess of War had seized a perfect moment—neither the patrolling Imperial Guards nor the two sharp-witted AI noticed the gesture.
In truth, had the Emperor summoned her somewhere more private than the Meditation Hall, Athena would have long since found a way to properly "thank" and "reward" him.
Back on the throne, Samuel Young's gaze passed through the massive golden doors, as if able to see the distant figure of Athena carrying his child away.
The hall fell into a brief, breathless silence. Only the gilded floor continued to shimmer faintly in the soft light.
Moments later, his eyes shifted.
Psionic perception rippled outward like invisible waves, passing easily through the heavy doors to lock onto the four Ghost operatives waiting in the corridor.
In his psionic vision, four distinct energy signatures flickered into view.
Two of them were as faint as candlelight—capable of telekinesis and psionic projection, but average in power.
Stone's psionic field, however, burned like an unstable flame—strong enough to unleash localized devastation.
And Nova Terra…
Her psionic presence was like an unsheathed blade—sharp, dangerous, and potent. Its strength surpassed even that of typical Astartes Librarians.
Though compared to Athena, hers was but a spark before the moon.
Samuel Young's fingers drummed softly against the throne's armrest.
Then, with deliberate calm, he spoke directly into their minds using psionics:
"Enter."
Outside the Meditation Hall—
The massive golden doors slid open. The Imperial Guards stood motionless on either side, their power armor gleaming under the light.
Nova drew in a deep breath and stepped forward. Her boots touched the gilded floor, making a faint sound.
And then, she froze.
The Meditation Hall was entirely cast in gold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the towering domes, each refracting light into countless dazzling prisms.
Exquisite reliefs depicting epic battles adorned the walls.
But it was the central figure—the towering golden throne—that drew all attention. It exuded a suffocating majesty.
Nova instinctively compared it to the Terran Dominion's palace on Korhal.
Though vast in scale, Korhal's palaces were but countryside huts compared to this.
The sheer luxury made her sneer inwardly:
"Tch, all empires are the same. Lavish waste. Rotten to the core inside."
"Is that so?"
Samuel Young's voice echoed through the hall, tinged with a strange resonance.
!
Nova stiffened, shocked. She looked up at the throne—
The man seated there had read her thoughts?
Samuel Young rose slowly from the throne, the gold-thread embroidery on his black robe shimmering under the light.
He looked down at the four of them. His gaze settled on Nova, deep as a starfield—as though it saw through all disguises.
A pressure swept over her. Her psionic instinct wanted to resist—but she realized, before him, her power was like an ant before a storm.
Stone and the other two were already pale, drenched in cold sweat.
Samuel Young descended the throne steps, his robe whispering over the floor with each step.
He stopped a few paces from Nova—close enough to dominate, far enough for her to clearly see the "cold sun" in his eyes.
"Ghost operatives of the Terran Dominion," Samuel Young's voice was calm, yet made their psionics ripple uncontrollably. "You trespassed in my realm. Now you presume to judge my Empire?"
Nova gritted her teeth against the pressure, lifting her head defiantly. "We were just carrying out a mission."
"Mission?" Samuel Young lifted a hand. A hologram appeared, displaying their entire infiltration of Mar Sara. "Espionage? Attempted assassination? Or... probing my limits?"
Each word was a hammer blow.
Nova suddenly realized: before this man, their secrets were naked and exposed.
His gaze fixed on her again.
"What do you think of Sarah Kerrigan's psionic abilities?" he asked.
The question caught Nova off guard. She answered reflexively, "The Queen of Blades is the most powerful psionic we know."
Samuel Young's golden gaze narrowed. His massive silhouette reflected off the gilded floor behind him.
"And how…" his voice deepened, "do you compare to Sarah Kerrigan?"
"…."
Nova's lips pressed into a tight line. Her chin lifted—but she said nothing.
The air froze. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
As a Level-10 psionic, she knew well how terrifying Kerrigan was. But her pride wouldn't allow her to admit defeat outright.
Her right hand unconsciously rubbed the inhibitor cuff on her left wrist, fingers sensing the chill of the metal.
"Heh."
Samuel Young's chuckle echoed in the vast hall, amused.
He turned to a nearby pillar, fingers brushing its ornate carvings—giving them space to think.
"Your Majesty…" Stone spoke up, voice trembling under the psionic pressure. Sweat poured from his forehead. Yet he forced out the question:
"Why did you summon us?"
Samuel Young turned to him. "Good question."
His tone softened—but it made their spines tighten.
He lifted his right hand, fingers tracing the air with elegance—like a pianist.
Suddenly, Nova and the others were struck with a wave of vertigo. The world warped around them.
She tried to channel her psionics—but her power sank like a stone into a bottomless sea.
Then the visions came—
She saw a group called Atlas secretly defending humanity.
Agents and operatives in black uniforms silently eliminating threats in rain-slick alleys.
Scientists in bright labs developing new technology. Test tubes glowed blue.
Soldiers on the front lines fending off unknown enemies. The flash of muzzles lit the darkness.
The scene shifted.
A corrupt official in ornate robes was dragged to a central plaza, surrounded by watching citizens.
The trial was public. Every piece of evidence projected onto massive holoscreens. As the crimes were laid bare, Nova could feel the crowd's seething fury.
More followed—
Brutal wars between the Human Empire and alien, chaotic foes.
Astartes clashing in the smoke of battle, power swords and chainswords spraying sparks.
Civilians rescued from monstrous threats—mothers sobbing as they clutched their children.
And then—most jarring of all—
A corrupt bureaucrat, consumed by Samuel Young's psionic fire in the main universe, screaming as his body twisted in the flames. The sound seemed to pierce her ears.
The visions shifted again.
Two worlds appeared.
One—paradise: a riverbank, peaceful souls who'd served the Empire resting with serene faces.
The other—hell: burning, where sinners were eternally tormented, their howls unending, their limbs writhing in lava.
When the visions ended, Nova found herself kneeling, her back soaked in cold sweat, chest heaving like she'd run ten kilometers.
She looked up.
Samuel Young gazed down at her calmly, those golden eyes utterly unreadable.
The hall's light seemed even brighter now, the walls glowing so fiercely she had to squint.
Stone was collapsed, face pale, clutching his chest.
The other two were prostrate on the floor, bodies trembling.
Nova swallowed, her throat dry and burning. Only then did she realize—she'd forgotten to breathe during the illusion.
Samuel Young walked back to the throne. When he sat again, the hall's atmosphere shifted.
Light shimmered across the gilded floor. The Empire's flag behind him swayed gently, though no wind stirred.
"The Human Empire…" his voice rang out, every word like thunder, "is not like the Terran Dominion. We are built on humanity. Our duty is protection."
Nova straightened unconsciously. She saw the gold gleam in his eyes—pure, without a trace of corruption.
"Though I am Emperor," he continued, raising a hand, palm upward, "I am nothing like Arcturus Mengsk."
At that name, his fingers curled, as if crushing something filthy.
"I will never betray humanity for selfish desires… nor betray loyalty."
A gentle psionic wave spread through the hall.
Nova felt her mind clear. Memories flooded back—Mengsk's lies, the Dominion's corruption, the countless soldiers sacrificed needlessly...
"Join us."
Samuel Young's voice gained force, cutting through hesitation.
"Fight on the true battlefield. For humanity."
His gaze swept the four of them. His psionics now like gentle streams, subtly flowing into their subconscious.
"Let humanity stand supreme in the multiverse—so that no alien or chaos dares threaten us again!"
(End of Chapter)
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