Leaving the Webway

The outlet of Webway is on the back of Luna.

This is no secret.

In the oldest star map file of Imperium of Man, the coordinates of Luna are marked as "a forbidden place, no one can approach it without permission".

The papers in those archives have turned yellow and brittle, and the edges have been eaten by insects with tiny holes.

But as long as you are still literate, as long as you still recognize Old Terran, you can understand the line of small characters written next to the coordinates - "The door to another world, sealed by Emperor personally."

It doesn't matter who sealed it, what matters is who sealed it.

Emperor personally placed the seal, which means that this door either leads to some deadly place, or something deadly will run out from behind the door.

But at this moment, what ran out from behind the door was something deadly.

A mighty fleet poured out from the crack on the back of Luna. Those ships were not in the style of Imperium of Man. They were slender and elegant, with countless fine, vine-like golden lines engraved on their hulls.

The bow of the ship is not a sharp angle like Imperium, but a smooth arc like a bird spreading its wings.

They are the ships of Eldar, the ships of Craftworlds, the ancient battleships that have been sleeping in Webway for countless years and finally awakened again.

Asuryan stood on the bow of the battleship at the front, his white-gold cloak fluttering silently in the void.

Behind him is Kaine, behind Kaine is Isha, and behind Isha are countless Eldar warriors. Those warriors wear ancient armor made of Wraithbone, and hold Psionic Energy spears glowing with blue light in their hands.

There was tension, expectation, and fear in their eyes, but more importantly - curiosity.

They haven't seen Material Universe for a long, long time. They haven't seen the sun for a long, long time.

Asuryan's eyes passed through the slowly rotating sea of stars, through the human fleets performing patrol missions, through Imperial Navy who were busy on the orbital defense platform, and landed on the blue planet.

Terra, the mother planet of mankind, the heart of Imperium, and the location of Golden Throne.

The planet was burning with incomparably bright light in the Warp wave. It was not light in the physical sense, but light on the Psionic Energy level, as dazzling as a lighthouse.

The light surged out from Golden Throne, passed through the earth's crust, passed through the atmosphere, passed through the void, and spread to the edge of Solar System.

It's so bright that it's unreasonable, so bright that it's unscrupulous, so bright that it's like some old guy is deliberately showing off to the whole Milky Way - "I'm still alive, I'm still bright."

Asuryan's mouth twitched slightly.

"Oh, you burned yourself so brightly."

There was ridicule, helplessness in his tone, and a kind of disgusted kindness that is unique to old friends when they reunite, "Warp will cause light pollution."

Your awareness of environmental protection is really weak now.

I remember that in the 20th century, you paid quite a lot of attention to this aspect."

Guilliman stood beside him, his eyelids jumped when he heard this.

Environmental awareness.

Environmental awareness in the twentieth century.

How long ago was that?

That period of history only has a few words left in Imperium's textbook - "Human civilization went through a period of rapid industrial development during the Christian era, which caused a certain degree of damage to the environment.

Later, under the guidance of Emperor, mankind began to pay attention to sustainable development, laying the material foundation for the interstellar Great Crusade."

It sounds grandiose, but in fact, they ruined the earth to a great extent, then ran off to colonize Mars, and the people who stayed on the earth were responsible for cleaning up the mess.

"Uncle is really knowledgeable about human culture."

Guilliman's tone is sincere, and there's nothing he can do if he's not sincere. This uncle just helped him block a Chaos Gods. He can't say "Can you control it?"

Asuryan glanced at him, with a kind of satisfaction in his pale golden eyes that said, "You're okay, kid."

"Although I have never been to Terra, your cheap man has talked to me a lot."

He paused, looked away from Guilliman, and landed on the blue planet again. Those eyes became a little distant, as if they had penetrated time and saw an afternoon long, long ago.

"He said what he missed most was the twentieth century, especially the beginning.

Although it is not developed, everything is thriving.

He misses the architecture of the millennium and the digital games of the time."

Guilliman was silent for a moment.

He tried to put the two concepts of "Emperor" and "digital game" into the same screen, but the screen generation failed and another blue screen occurred.

He didn't know what game Emperor played, whether it was <StarCraft> or <Command & Conquer>. Anyway, they were both fighting games.

That old man has been fighting all his life, and he still fights while playing a game. Is this considered an occupational disease?

But when I think about it carefully, I think it makes sense. With a character like Emperor, if you play <The Sims>, you probably have to train all the NPCs in the city to be Space Marines.

Asuryan raised his head, the nostalgia in those pale golden eyes almost overflowing.

"Your father said that it seemed like every day was summer at that time.

Walking on the asphalt road, you are surrounded by camphor trees. The trees grow very tall, and their green leaves continue to extend on both sides of the road until they cover the sky."

His voice slowed down, as if he was reciting a poem that he had recited many times, "Of course, you can always see the blue sky and white clouds through the gaps in the leaves, but the whole road always gives off a green feeling, and the temperature seems to drop a few degrees."

Guilliman said nothing.

He didn't know what a camphor tree was, what it felt like to step on an asphalt road in summer, or what the difference was between the blue sky and white clouds he saw through the leaves and the one he saw standing on the open ground.

He only knew that the sunshine from Macragge was golden and warm on his body. In winter, his mother would set up a table in the yard, put a pot of hot tea on the table, and sit there to bask in the sun.

In Asuryan's eyes, the nostalgia was not only for the human world in the twentieth century, but also for an era that he could never return to.