The Emperor's New Clothes

Under Guilliman's will, the bronze doors slid apart, shattering the silence of the bridge. Emergency lights spilled into the office, where he stood with his back to the door before a star map. Countless star systems had dimmed upon it, while crimson markers continuously devoured more regions, representing the widening wounds of the Imperium.

"The Imperium is bleeding, slipping toward the Abyss every second." Guilliman's voice was low and weary, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the desk.

Evelyn entered. "You summoned me, Regent?" Her voice was like a harp plucking icy strings, clear and distant.

Guilliman finally turned around, his worry-filled eyes looking directly at the Eldar seer. "Evelyn, I need the wisdom of your people, the insight that has endured through the ages." He paused. "Hilling Empire... Has this name left even the slightest trace in your ancestors' ancient history?"

Evelyn fell silent.

Time stretched within the stagnant air.

She raised her head slightly. Deep within those star-like eyes, countless fragments of light and shadow seemed to whirl past at high speed—the mere tip of the vast Aeldari memory vault.

After a long while, the shifting lights slowly settled.

Evelyn gently shook her head, silver hair brushing across her smooth forehead. "No, Regent. In known Aeldari history, there has never been a name like 'Hilling.'"

A trace of barely perceptible confusion colored her voice. "However, the universe is far too vast for any record to encompass. Its existence... is not entirely impossible, at least beyond the galaxy..."

A nearly invisible flicker of disappointment crossed Guilliman's resolute face, only to be replaced by deeper gravity.

The Imperium's colossal body teetered on the edge of the Abyss. Countless crises demanding immediate resolution surrounded it like a pack of wolves. One name could not claim too much of his attention.

He waved a hand. "Understood. Turn this matter over to the Inquisition. Let them handle it."

The heavy Adamantium gate slid open soundlessly, and Inquisitor Greyfax and Living Saint Celestine entered.

Carter and his squad members sat quietly on cold metal benches.

They wore no shackles, nor were their movements completely restricted. This had been an order personally issued by Regent Guilliman, in return for the strength and aid they had demonstrated during the previous Blue Elf Defense War.

Greyfax stepped before Carter, close enough to see every subtle change in his eyes. "Where do you come from? Where is this so-called 'Hilling Empire'?" The questions fell again and again like cold iron hammers, monotonous and repetitive.

Carter's expression was like a deep pool, calm and undisturbed. His answer was concise. "Conducting a routine reconnaissance mission. Encountered an unknown spatial anomaly. Forced jump to this location. Coordinates lost. Unable to retrace route."

Celestine had been silently observing them all along. Her clear gaze moved slowly across Carter's face and those of the other Spartans, keenly catching every minute change.

Whenever her gaze passed over them, a trace of something extremely subtle flickered deep within Carter's and the other warriors' eyes.

It was not the reverence, fervor, or simple curiosity one should have shown before a saint of the Imperium. It was a kind of... confusion? As if they had encountered something here that they should never have encountered?

"Captain Carter," Celestine spoke. Her voice carried a soothing power, yet also a sharpness that seemed to see through the soul. "When you look at me... that expression suggests this is not our first meeting. Do you... know me?" She leaned forward slightly. The radiance around her seemed gentler, yet it shone even more intensely upon their faces.

Carter raised his head and met Celestine's pure eyes.

He was silent for several seconds, as though organizing his words, or perhaps confirming some realization.

At last, he spoke slowly, his voice low and steady. "Your form... is familiar. Within our framework of understanding, there are individuals with traits similar to yours. But... you are not them."

"Them?" Celestine froze slightly. Her form of holy light was a symbol of the Emperor's will and pure faith, the embodiment of an "angel" in the eyes of countless believers, the Glory of guidance and Redemption.

She looked toward the Inquisitor. Their eyes met, silently conveying this abrupt yet crucial piece of information.

Greyfax's expression did not shift in the slightest, but his eyes became sharper, like quenched steel needles fixed firmly upon Carter's face.

"Them?" he repeated, his voice cold. "Explain clearly. What form do the 'angels' in your understanding take? What standards is your framework of understanding based upon?" He leaned forward slightly, the emblems symbolizing absolute authority on his Inquisitor's robes reflecting a cold gleam beneath the cell's overhead lights.

Carter lowered his eyes again, returning to that rock-like silence.

The other warriors were like statues as well, utterly unfazed by the Inquisitor's suddenly intensified pressure.

Only Greyfax's cold breathing and the faint hum of Celestine's flowing radiance remained in the cell.

The invisible standoff was suffocating.

Hilling Star · Hua Wei's Temporary Doghouse

Hua Wei stared at the 19,800 Emotion Points remaining in the system. His finger hovered over the exchange button for the [The Emperor's New Clothes] item, trembling slightly.

"Ten thousand points! For one fucking projection!" he growled at the air. "System, are you sure this can bluff Guilliman?"

"Item effect: Based on the host's provided basic image, generates a holographic projection fitting the identity of a 'Hilling Empire general,' with a designated environmental background included (spaceport fleet). Duration: 10 minutes. Signal strength simulates the characteristics of 'ultra-long-range cross-dimensional communication.' Note: This projection has no substantial physical interaction capability."

"Shove your note up your ass!" Hua Wei cursed, but when he saw Carter's squad disarmed on the surveillance feed, he gritted his teeth and pressed the button.

-10,000 Emotion Points!

"Fuck! Bought it..." He sucked in a pained breath.

The massive mechanical body of Archmagos Cawl stood before the laboratory's central control console. Countless neural probes flickering with data streams connected like living creatures to the complex array of interfaces on his back.

His sole remaining organic eye was half-closed, greedily capturing and analyzing the structural data on Spartan MJOLNIR Armor flowing like a waterfall across the holographic display before him.

Every flicker of the data stream was accompanied by the deep, rhythmic hum of servo motors within his body.

"Exquisite... yet... so unfamiliar..." Cawl's low synthetic voice, laden with mechanical tremors, echoed through the laboratory.

A molecular scanning probe as thin as a hair extended from the end of one mechanical arm. "Not an STC creation... not the style of any known Forge World..." His voice was filled with confusion and an almost obsessive longing.

Suddenly!

Beep—! Beep beep beep—!

A powerful pulse signal erupted without warning from deep within the armor!

"Warning! High-priority external signal forcibly connecting! Protocol layer overridden by unknown authorization! Signal source location... failed! Energy signature... unidentifiable!!" The laboratory's servo-skulls emitted piercing alarms.

Cawl's sole organic eye snapped open, its pupil contracting sharply in shock!

The waterfall-like data stream on the massive central screen before him was instantly and violently overridden by a forcibly inserted communication interface.

The image distorted violently, flickered, and filled with irritating static.

After a brief adjustment, an intensely imposing figure finally appeared—a man wearing a crisp dark uniform of an unseen design, its epaulets intricate and imposing.

His face was stern, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's. Even as a projection, he radiated the iron-blooded authority of a battle-hardened veteran.

Behind him was the deep sea of stars, where enormous orbital rings stretched to the edge of vision like steel ramparts.

Countless sleek starships, utterly different in style from Imperial vessels, moved through the area in orderly formation.

"Noble... Team?... Receive... respond!... Report... location!... status!" The voice carried strange electronic reverberation, as though it had crossed endless void. The signal was mixed with rhythmic static, waxing and waning in strength.

"Identification... Hilling Empire... Seventh Fleet... flagship... spaceport... general..." A line of fragmented identification code flickered with difficulty in the corner of the screen.

Cawl's mechanical eye flashed wildly, the data stream nearly overloading! The scale of this spaceport, the technological style of these vessels... completely exceeded his database! This was absolutely not the Imperium of Man, nor even any known faction!

"Unauthorized external link detected! Activating Lone Wolf Protocol! Top priority: recover combat units!" A cold electronic voice rang out from within the MJOLNIR Armor.

Hiss—!

The six suits of MJOLNIR Armor in the laboratory instantly broke free from their mounting racks! Their joint-locking devices disengaged automatically, and their helmet visors lit with a faint blue glow.

Ignoring the dumbfounded Tech-Priests and servo-thralls, their engine nozzles ignited. They smashed through the laboratory's heavy blast doors and sped toward the detention sector!

Within the detention sector, Carter suddenly raised his head. His internal communications unit had received an encrypted signal—the identification code for MJOLNIR AI activation!

"Prepare!" he growled only once.

Piercing alarms and the sounds of metal striking metal came from the corridor outside the cell!

Boom!

The Adamantium cell door was blasted directly away by immense force from the outside! Amid the billowing smoke and dust, six suits of MJOLNIR Armor flickering with faint blue operational indicators flew precisely toward their respective owners like beasts returning to their dens!

Clack! Clack! Clack!

Armor components automatically separated, connected, and locked together in midair! Under the precise control of the AI, the complex donning process was completed within seconds! The instant their helmets sealed and their visors lit up, the Spartans had transformed once more into steel Bulwarks. Their energy shields unfolded with a hum as they formed a circular defensive formation.

The entire process flowed as smoothly as water, carrying a cold mechanical beauty.

The guarding Ultramarines reacted swiftly, raising their Bolters at once, but they did not fire. Their orders were "do not attack unless necessary," and the other side had displayed no hostile intent.

"Stop what you are doing! In the Emperor's name, I order you to disarm immediately!" Greyfax's voice was like ice, carrying the unquestionable authority unique to an Inquisitor.

Living Saint Celestine's golden wings spread slightly. Her holy radiance stood in stark contrast to the faint blue shields of the MJOLNIR Armor. Her gaze remained fixed upon Carter, carrying scrutiny and a trace of barely perceptible shock.