You were still watching him.
As time passed, his people emerged from the ignorant darkness. Filled with hopes for the future, they raced toward the stars.
He took part as well.
Living happily as an ordinary hermit.
Until the Warp Storm that swept across the entire galaxy arrived.
And there was nothing you could do about it.
Or rather, you had once possessed a way to resolve it.
But now, aged and frail, you were far from what you had once been.
Scattered across the galaxy, humanity no longer dreamed of the heavens beyond. Hunters no longer aimed their schemes and blades at prey, but at other hunters.
They drew the sustenance needed to survive from the corpses of their dead kin.
Men of Gold, Iron Men, Stone Men.
Tech Barbarians.
Conflict. Civil war.
Until the earth was drenched crimson, there could be no rest.
You had seen a similar sight long ago.
Back then, your people had called it—the War of Heaven.
You did not fear the provocations of the Star Gods.
But the negative emotions produced by war would endlessly nourish those foul things in the Warp.
If the war were allowed to continue, the victors would be those lurking in the shadows.
Not you, nor your enemies.
Unfortunately, those mad Necrontyr and Star Gods would never understand that.
Left with no choice, you withdrew from the battle alongside your fellow kin.
In order to better protect the galaxy from the corruption of those Warp abominations, you built a supreme pyramid within the Empyrean, surrounded by your people's adoration.
After that, you would sit upon the Burning Golden Throne.
Until eternity.
Was that so?
You did not know.
Who could know everything?
Countless years passed, always replaying one ugly cycle after another.
Your once noble people decayed and