The Chimera entered the ground-level parking garage of Dawn Tower.
Standing 1,111 meters tall, the colossal building formed the heart of the Garden of Dawn and served as Crimson Dawn's administrative headquarters on Planet Dal.
When Flatbread and Cola stepped out of the vehicle, they were briefly stunned.
Armored transports were pouring in from every direction.
Chimeras.
Rhinos.
Land Raiders.
Countless vehicles rolled down the roads leading into Dawn Tower, entering the enormous parking garage and lining up in orderly rows.
Doors opened one after another.
Figures stepped out.
Men and women.
Some wore power armor.
Others were dressed in ordinary civilian clothes.
But every one of them had the same distinctive crimson-colored username floating above their head.
[Have You Been Loyal Today?] jumped down from a modified Land Raider, his Sons of Horus-pattern power armor gleaming beneath the morning light.
[I'm Not the Regent I'm Just Passing By Guilliman] followed close behind.
He wore the deep-blue power armor of the Ultramarines, with an enormous Ω symbol emblazoned across his breastplate.
An energy bar stuck out of his mouth, and he chewed it casually as he walked.
[Execute Old Man the War Criminal] and [Papa Nurgle Loves All Mankind] approached side by side, arguing about something.
Judging by their expressions, they'd found yet another excuse to start bickering.
[Paradox Player Not a War Criminal] leaned against a vehicle with a cup of coffee in his hand, quietly surveying the crowd.
[Blood Angels' Second Emperor].
[Schrödinger's Loyalist].
[The Most Incorruptible Logistics King of the Imperium].
[Studying Med is Worse Than Falling to Chaos].
[Teaching Nurgle How to Read in the Warp].
[Slaanesh Just Wants to Slack Off Today].
[The Emperor's Golden Package, Served on Ice]...
Those familiar usernames.
Those familiar faces.
The brothers and comrades who had fought side by side through countless battles.
They had all gathered here.
Nobody spoke.
There were only quiet nods of acknowledgment whenever their eyes met, accompanied by the crisp sound of footsteps against the metal floor.
Every single one of them was heading toward the same destination.
The central conference hall of Dawn Tower.
--
The Warp, near the edge of the Astronomican.
Within the Unnamed Domain.
Lucian sat cross-legged inside his enormous virtual villa.
Twelve golden holographic screens floated before him.
He still looked like a young man in his early twenties, wearing a loose, comfortable hoodie.
But his eyes told a different story.
Deep within those pale golden pupils, countless glittering stars were reflected.
Every star represented a point where destiny was unfolding.
His gaze passed through one of the screens and settled on the towering Dawn Tower, standing 1,111 meters tall.
Then his attention shifted to the conference hall where Crimson Dawn's highest-ranking players had gathered.
Two figures stood out prominently at the center of the hall.
One was clad in dark gold.
He stood 3.88 meters tall, wearing a magnificent suit of golden Aquilon-pattern Terminator armor.
Intricately sculpted Imperial Aquilas adorned the shoulder guards, while faint streams of energy flowed across the surface of the breastplate.
Above his head floated the name Paul Dawn.
The other figure was crimson and gold.
She stood 3.7 meters tall.
Her skin had a warm copper complexion, covered in naturally formed patterns resembling dragon scales.
Faint streams of crimson-gold light pulsed beneath those markings.
Long crimson hair flowed down her back, with tiny sparks flickering at the ends of her strands.
Two hornlike bony protrusions, each roughly two inches long, rose from her head.
Their surfaces were covered in intricate patterns resembling flowing magma.
At her waist hung an enormous polearm measuring 4.5 meters in length.
Its blade was forged from some unknown, starlight-shimmering metal, while the shaft bore the same magma-like patterns as her horns.
This was Crimson Drake Starflame's personal weapon.
The Starflame Dragonbreath Power Halberd.
Behind her back rested a pair of folded dragon wings.
They were made entirely of pure flame energy.
Even while folded, the wings trembled faintly, radiating enough heat to distort the surrounding air.
Her body was protected by Dragonscale Crimsonfire Armor.
A pair of Crimson Dragon Twin-Fang Plasma Pistols hung at her waist.
This was...
Crimson Dawn's first Primarch.
Crimson Drake Starflame.
Behind her stood five hundred warriors wearing matching crimson power armor.
Their skin shared the same warm copper tone.
Dragon-scale patterns covered their shoulders, necks, arms, and jaws.
Every warrior had eyes the color of molten gold, and tiny sparks spilled from them whenever their emotions grew intense.
They were the Crimson Drake Starflame Legion.
Crimson Dawn's first dedicated Astartes Legion.
A faint smile appeared on Lucian's face.
He murmured softly, his voice echoing through the empty divine domain.
"Crimson Dawn..."
"Your journey begins now."
His gaze drifted away from the golden screen.
He looked toward the distant depths of the Warp.
Dark currents were stirring there.
Countless Warp creatures were fleeing in terror.
Entire daemon realms trembled violently, as though something unimaginably terrifying were approaching.
Lucian narrowed his eyes slightly.
"This Horus Heresy might turn out to be a lot more difficult than you people are expecting..."
He shifted his attention to another screen.
His gaze pierced the Warp and settled on a planet somewhere in the material universe.
A group of robed figures had gathered there.
They held staffs above their heads, chanting ancient incantations.
Magical light flickered around them, enveloping the entire area in an eerie glow.
At the edge of the gathering stood a young man wearing an ordinary robe.
He blended in among the others.
But above his head, a black username flickered faintly.
[Four-Armed God-Emperor, Please Accept My Loyalty].
Lucian raised an eyebrow.
"Veritas..."
"Looks like what Nurgle did to you really left you holding a grudge."
He chuckled.
"To think you'd actually put yourself in the middle of all this and interfere with the Four Gods' plans."
"Aren't you afraid they'll devour your divine authorities and your godhood until there's nothing left?"
"Now that's guts."
"I'm rooting for you."
"Go give that scheming bastard Tzeentch a proper beating!"
"You're the real Lord of Magic!"
"Hehehe."
Lucian laughed shamelessly.
He seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that his own false accusations had caused this entire situation in the first place.
Still chuckling to himself, he turned his attention toward another golden screen.
This time, the image showed Holy Terra.
--
Deep within the Himalayas, an underground facility had remained hidden for countless years.
Inside a pristine white laboratory, cold cultivation fluid glowed faintly blue beneath the overhead lights.
Two enormous incubation chambers stood silently in the room.
Within the chamber on the left floated a pure-white body.
Its facial features were flawless.
A faint halo of pure-white judgment energy surrounded it, giving the impression that the cold, merciless Eye of Judgment had descended into the mortal world.
Inside the chamber on the right floated a pitch-black body.
Its contours were smooth and almost delicate, yet it radiated an overwhelming sense of danger.
An aura of absolute finality surrounded it, as though it were the very embodiment of death.
Two bodies.
Two completely opposing fundamental natures.
Both remained dormant within their cultivation fluid.
Before the chambers stood a hunched figure.
He wore a dark-gray hooded robe.
Deep wrinkles covered his aged face, and his silver-gray eyes were as profound and cold as an ancient lake.
Malcador.
The Sigillite.
Behind him, the laboratory doors slowly slid open.
A golden figure entered.
The Emperor.
He wasn't wearing his iconic golden power armor.
Instead, he wore a simple white robe.
Yet his mere presence seemed to raise the temperature of the entire laboratory by several degrees.
Malcador didn't turn around.
He continued studying the two incubation chambers.
His voice was old but calm.
"How much longer until they're complete?"
The Emperor approached and stood beside him.
He looked toward the two bodies suspended in their chambers.
The contrasting white and black radiance reflected within his golden eyes.
"Soon."
His voice was calm, carrying an absolute certainty that left no room for doubt.
"Their genetic structures and Warp essences are in the process of merging."
"Once that process is complete..."
He paused, his gaze sharpening.
"Their first mission will be to pass judgment on the sinners lurking beneath the underhive of the Eternal City."
Malcador nodded.
The Emperor spoke again, his expression growing solemn.
"We must complete the Webway Project as quickly as possible."
"I can already sense that something is about to happen."
"Only when the Webway Project is complete will humanity truly have a chance to survive."
The Emperor fell silent for two seconds before turning toward Malcador.
"What about Angron and Curze?"
Malcador shook his head.
"The Officio Assassinorum has submitted its reports."
"Neither has shown any unusual activity."
"There are no signs of rebellion."
"Over the past few years, the only significant concern has been the growing opposition most of the Primarchs have expressed toward the Council of Terra."
"They dislike the idea of ordinary mortals holding authority over them."
The corner of the Emperor's mouth twitched slightly.
For several seconds, his flawless face remained expressionless.
Then he finally spoke.
His voice was calm, but beneath it lay a deep sense of resignation.
"I'm well aware of that."
"But the personalities of most of them simply aren't suited to ruling the Imperium."
"I didn't create my children because I needed heirs to inherit the Imperium of Man."
"They exist to protect the Imperium."
"To safeguard humanity and ensure the survival of our species."
He paused, his gaze growing distant.
"I believe..."
"My children will understand."
--
Back in the Warp, within the Unnamed Domain, Lucian watched the Emperor's face on the golden screen.
He noticed the brief flicker of emotion in those ancient eyes.
Then he shook his head.
"Understand?"
His voice echoed through the empty divine domain, carrying equal parts amusement and mockery.
"If those kids of yours actually understood you, there wouldn't be a Horus Heresy in the first place."
"Oh, Neoth. Neoth..."
"You're good at just about everything."
"Except being a father."
"What kind of dad doesn't show his kids a shred of love and just treats them like glorified workhorses?"
"Honestly, those twenty-one Primarchs really drew the short straw."
"An idiot for a mother and an emotionless bastard for a father."
"No wonder some of them turned traitor."
His gaze passed through the golden screen once more.
It settled on the Dawn Tower.
On the two figures standing side by side.
One dark gold.
The other crimson gold.
"But whatever happens..."
A faint smile slowly spread across his face.
"What must come will come."
"The Horus Heresy."
"And ten thousand years of darkness."
--
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