Would You Be Willing to Bear the Burden for the Imperium?

Eisenhorn was already old.

Once high-spirited and feared by humanity's enemies, the Inquisitor was now gray-haired and no longer the man he had once been.

Eisenhorn, a high-ranking Imperial Inquisitor, had once been regarded as an enemy of humanity and hunted down by the Imperium with all its might.

Later, he did everything he could to prove his loyalty and innocence, then slew the instigator—the heretical Inquisitor Quixos, believed dead by the Inquisition for many years, whose name had once terrified the entire Milky Way.

Killing Quixos had made his name, but it had not been the pinnacle of his career.

Eisenhorn had achieved many great things. He had wandered beyond the light of the Emperor's Astronomican, purging remnants of Xenos the Imperial Administratum had long considered extinct.

He had even used a Daemon Prince to destroy a fallen Emperor Titan.

More than once, he had used Daemons to fight other Daemons.

He had thwarted a heretical conspiracy that sought to destroy an entire sector.

He had driven out heretics lurking within human worlds.

Of course, behind those glories lay heartbreaking costs.

His former friends, disciples, and lovers had all died in battles against Daemons.

Only he remained, dragging out his existence in this world.

Eisenhorn remembered the death of every companion.

His brain had been modified so that he could remember everything, ensuring that he would not lose a single detail when fighting heretics.

For an elderly Inquisitor, that ability was a form of torment.

The way his companions had died was etched into his mind, impossible for time to erase. It would remain with him, tormenting him until the day he died.

Eisenhorn was troubled by the same problem. Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus had once offered to erase his memories.

But he could not bear to let the only traces his companions had left in this world vanish, so he could only live on in pain.

The life-extending surgery performed more than a century ago was still working. Eisenhorn could still live for several more decades.

Of course, he was destined to spend those decades in the company of loneliness, chewing over the grief brought by the deaths of those he cared about each day.

He tried to continue fighting the heretics and Daemons that ravaged the Imperium, to let them know that Inquisitor Eisenhorn's wrath had not yet been extinguished.

Unfortunately, though his lifespan remained, his body could no longer support those terrifying adventures.

The artificial devices implanted in his body tormented him. Any intense movement brought him agonizing, tearing pain.

Eisenhorn had never expected to receive a summons from the Imperial Regent.

Having fought Xenos and Daemons for many years, he knew very well how formidable a Primarch was.

There were countless terrifying, unimaginable Xenos in the Milky Way.

They were powerful, bizarre, and possessed unimaginable strength.

Every time an Inquisitor uprooted one, a heavy price had to be paid.

Yet the Primarchs had swept aside those monsters and built the Imperium that endured to this day atop their remains.

Led by several Imperial attendants, Eisenhorn walked down a broad marble corridor.

Portraits of many Inquisitors worthy of remembrance hung along those corridors, men and women who had sacrificed themselves to defend the Imperium and protect humanity.

They had fulfilled their oaths and were therefore worthy of remembrance.

Eisenhorn did not know whether he was qualified to hang in this corridor. Perhaps not.

Over his long career as an Inquisitor, his sins were as numerous as his achievements.

Using the power of Daemons was a stain he could never wash away, and he had repeatedly struck at other Inquisitorial teams in order to escape danger quickly and deal with the troubles at hand.

Beyond the corridor stood a magnificent hall of judgment.

Honor Guard clad in Terminator Armor stood on either side, scrutinizing Eisenhorn as he entered the hall.

Those Bolters... one shot would probably turn me into fragments, Eisenhorn thought as he looked at the Bolters in their hands.

The Bolters used by Space Marines had an even more terrifying caliber than those wielded by Inquisitors and Sisters of Battle.

During his past missions, he had seen these Angels of the Emperor take action many times.

When these armored warriors were thrown into battle, every enemy facing them had every reason to feel fear.

Space Marines were war machines in every sense of the word. Nothing could withstand their power.

Several Servo-skulls floated in the air, their scanners casting scarlet beams over Eisenhorn.

After confirming that there was no problem, the Servo-skulls rose higher and continued circling throughout the hall.

Upon entering the hall, Eisenhorn immediately saw Covenant standing respectfully to one side.

He had never seen an Inquisitor so obedient and polite.

Inquisitors without superiors often did not think much even of the Imperial Senate.

A giant clad in azure armor sat in an enormous chair, reviewing documents classified at the highest level of secrecy.

His face was perfect and solemn. Simply sitting there, he radiated an irresistible charisma.

"My lord, he has arrived," Covenant said.

Guilliman turned around and looked at the white-haired Eisenhorn. Years of battle had cost the Inquisitor multiple limbs and portions of his flesh, forcing him to replace them with mechanical prosthetics.

"You may leave first. I have some questions to ask him alone," Guilliman said.

Covenant nodded, made the Aquila Sign, and walked out.

The hall was emptied, leaving only Eisenhorn and Guilliman.

"My lord Primarch, what would you like to ask?" Eisenhorn's tone was humble.

Before him was not the bunch of fools from the Senate, but a Primarch who had once lived in an age of myth.

Any disrespect would be foolish.

"You once summoned Daemons and commanded them. I saw several accusations against you in the data archives. You even fought alongside a Daemon several times."

"Yes, my lord. At the time, there was no other choice. I—"

Before Eisenhorn could finish explaining, Guilliman interrupted him.

"You do not need to explain. I understand."

Eisenhorn grew tense. He did not know whether this great figure intended to punish him for his transgressions.

Even though the Inquisition now considered him innocent and had allowed him to teach new recruits at the Inquisitorial Academy, Eisenhorn understood that a Primarch could overturn all of that with ease.

"When fighting those terrifying things for humanity, any means can be forgiven. Only the most despicable, shameless people, those with no bottom line, can claim final victory."

Guilliman's words left Eisenhorn stunned for a moment. He realized that Guilliman was not here to punish him.

"My lord..." Eisenhorn did not know what to say.

"Eisenhorn, are you loyal to the Imperium?"

Guilliman abruptly changed the subject, asking in a solemn tone.

"My lord, I am utterly loyal to the Imperium."

"Then do you love humanity, and are you willing to give everything for humanity's survival?"

"My lord, I have served for centuries and fought countless Daemons. My friends, disciples, and even my lovers all died in those terrifying battles. I have already given everything for humanity."

"Very well, Eisenhorn. Then are you willing to bear the burden once more for the Imperium and humanity? To endure the accusations of those ignorant people again, to walk through darkness until the Age of Dawn arrives, until humanity receives salvation."

Guilliman stared intently at Eisenhorn. His tone was more solemn than ever, making Eisenhorn understand that this was no joke.

"My lord, I am willing."

Eisenhorn answered swiftly, giving himself no time to think.

Living alone and drawing his final breath in a sickbed should not be an Inquisitor's fate.

Dying on the battlefield against humanity's enemies was an Inquisitor's fate.

"Can you swear it? You will walk in darkness and remain true to your original purpose of protecting humanity. Unless the Age of Dawn arrives, you will never reveal what you have done. Whether you face accusations or the threat of death, you must never doubt your own actions."

Eisenhorn raised his hand. "I swear that before the Imperium's Age of Dawn arrives, I will uphold my oath. I will never reveal or doubt what I have done."

"I hope you can uphold the oath you have made, Eisenhorn. I need you to do something for me. It may not look honorable. It may seem treasonous, but it is of great importance."

"What is it, my lord?" Eisenhorn asked.