The Empire Grants Protection, but Also Demands Loyalty

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At this moment, Sui Yang lightly tapped his fingertips against the throne's armrest, the rhythmic sound echoing through the Meditation Hall.

His eyes were closed, yet his Psychic Power vision pierced through dimensional barriers, clearly reflecting the tiny figure curled up in Athena's arms—

The newborn Primarch's steady breathing became gentle ripples in his psychic perception, as pure as the first drop of water after freshly fallen snow melted.

The child's long eyelashes trembled faintly in sleep. His tender little face had yet to be touched by any worldly emotion, devoid of even the slightest trace of "hypocrisy," like a blank sheet of paper.

Indeed, even a creation bearing the Emperor's genes was nothing more than a blank parchment at the moment of birth.

The path of a newborn Primarch's growth, or that of any newborn, ultimately depended on whoever held the pen—

A mentor's teachings were silver ink sketching the outline, a companion's influence was colored glaze filling in the details, while a parent's words and actions...

Sui Yang's psychic "tentacles" gently brushed the edge of the sleeping child's consciousness.

There was no hypocritical mask described by Fulgrim, no twisted shadow recorded in Warhammer 40,000. There was only the most primal thirst for knowledge, quietly burning like a newborn star.

Thus, a parent's words and actions were all the more crucial.

Through his psychic vision, he saw Athena lowering her head to gaze at the child in her arms. Her golden hair hung down, glowing with a soft halo beneath the light of Mar Sara's sun.

Her lips moved gently, as though she were whispering something to the sleeping Primarch—

Perhaps an Ancient Greek lullaby, perhaps wisdom bestowed by the War Goddess.

Moreover, Athena gently stroked the newborn Primarch's forehead. A faint golden psychic glow flowed around her