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-For the Emperor
Our father, the great Emperor, mankind's savior, the radiance of the Golden Throne.
He has sat upon that throne for far too long. What sits there is no longer him. He has become a corpse, a torch, a symbol, rather than our father.
Before he leads all mankind to destruction, we will crush anyone who stands in our way, whether the Astra Militarum, the Astartes, or the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Or even our brothers...
Upon Terra, we will personally end our father's life and halt mankind's headlong plunge into the abyss of death.
Mankind will live under a new order, rather than muddle through its days steeped in ignorance.
We are a great species. We once possessed technology that seemed miraculous, and spirits as strong as steel.
We should roam the sea of stars, rather than mire ourselves in endless religion and infighting.
So.
Let the stars burn again.
Time: unknown.
Location: unknown.
Subject: the Cursed One.
A king's roar echoed across the heavens. The dead staggered to their feet, and decaying war machines powered up once more.
They paid their highest respects to the enemy who had invaded their sanctuary.
A flash of gold swept past, and every enemy in his path was consumed by sacred flames.
With a mere wave of his hand, thunderous Psyker Power lightning effortlessly shattered an ancient warship.
A man clad in golden armor, his eyes shining with golden light, fought through wave after wave of encirclement and reached the "boundary."
Behind him, countless furious spirits surged like a tide, and battleships that had lain silent for countless epochs began to rise.
A faint, cross-shaped silhouette loomed in the heavens, its majestic outline visible in the starlight. It was the super-warship that represented the final epoch-the Throne of the End.
At the sight of that warship, a trace of envy flashed through the man's eyes, but in the end, he merely let out a long sigh.
With that, he leaped off the cliff and plunged into the abyss.
He passed through the rift and arrived in a fantastical space.
Before him lay a world that shifted like a slideshow. Here, time and space had long since lost all meaning.
One moment, he saw a terrifying planet-sized warship spanning much of the starry sky; the next, the ground shattered into pieces, then rose up again.
Even the fundamental laws of the physical universe ceased to exist here. All that remained were the roars, anguish, and madness of countless billions of living beings.
This place was called the "Warp," the other side of the universe, the resting place of souls.
Concept illustration of the Warp (this thing usually twists constantly, and staring at it intently will inevitably drive you mad)
The golden-armored man seemed unwilling to linger here, however, and vanished in the blink of an eye.
After a bumpy journey, a fantastical jumble of colors filled his vision. The familiar sensation of gravity returned, and the man slammed hard onto a bed.
The poor bed promptly collapsed beneath his enormous weight.
Staring at the ceiling, his body covered in ruptures, the man laughed.
"That damned feeling of gravity. Finally back from the Warp."
The next moment, the door was kicked open, and two giants clad in golden armor charged in with guardian spears raised.
Once they recognized him, however, they lowered their guardian spears and dropped to one knee together.
"Your Majesty."
"Rise."
The Emperor stood up from the shattered bed and looked at the clock. Its hands had already made several circuits.
Illustration of the Emperor (a thousand people see a thousand faces; he appears in whatever form each person considers most perfect)
"Carter, Daly, how long has it been?"
"You disappeared for three days, seven hours, and forty-two minutes. Marshal Valdor and Lord Malcador have been beside themselves over your disappearance."
"All right. Bring them here."
Before they could leave, however, a cold snort rang out.
"No need. His Majesty has his own business to attend to. How could servants such as ourselves dare disturb him?"
An old man with a displeased expression entered through the broken doorway. His hair was white and his steps unsteady, but his eyes held a sharpness that belied his age.
The Emperor immediately looked embarrassed.
The newcomer was his trusted friend, a powerful Perpetual, and the current chancellor of this tiny little Imperium.
The Sigillite-Malcador.
Simply put, the Emperor was responsible for hacking down enemies on the front lines, while his old friend churned out troops in the rear.
"My old friend, you and I are the closest of friends. Since when did you become a servant again?" The Emperor moved to put an arm around his old friend.
Malcador stepped back instead.
"This old man merely shouldered a few insignificant responsibilities as best he could while my lord was absent."
"The Warp changes in an instant, and opportunities wait for no one. This time, I had no chance to notify you."
Malcador merely sighed softly.
"In the future, my lord, do send word when you have something to do. Don't make us worry so much."
"Of course."
"But right now, I'd rather tell you about the extraordinary place I visited."
The Emperor waved a hand, and the Adeptus Custodes obediently walked out.
Then they came back and fitted the warped door they had kicked to the floor back into place.
Once they were alone, Malcador dropped his formal manner. He settled comfortably into a nearby seat and began brewing tea with the treasured leaves beside him.
He had coveted the stuff for ages, but the Emperor always kept it hidden in his room, and Malcador could hardly come in to mooch some without a reason.
"Where did you go this time?"
"While I was observing the Warp a little while ago, a dimensional rift suddenly appeared. I took the opportunity to enter it."
"A dimensional rift?"
"Yes. Then I arrived in what seemed to be another universe."
The Emperor narrowed his eyes, recalling everything he had seen.
"In that spacetime, mankind seemed to have come a very long way. Their technology was far more advanced than even the old Age of Technology. I suspect even the Aeldari Empire of old would have fallen somewhat short by comparison."
"Oh? That's wonderful news. What did the humans there have to say?"
"There... mankind was already extinct."
Malcador frowned and stroked his sparse beard.
"Is that so? What a tragedy."
"But I fought my way into the sacred ground those spirits were guarding and stole their relic. That was quite a close call."
The Emperor spoke with lingering trepidation, though he looked more excited than anything else.
"Their warships were truly marvelous. You have no idea-ships with that sort of construction could actually function. I couldn't even understand their core power-supply systems."
"And that enormous Throne of the End. A pity I didn't steal one to bring..."
Malcador interrupted his excited friend, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
"Enough, my lord. Rather than concern ourselves with those strange technologies, why not take a look at the relic you brought?"
"Oh, right."
The Emperor carefully took the bundle out of his armor.
Waaah-waaah-
A baby's cry rang out unexpectedly, and the two stared at the infant inside the bundle in utter surprise.
Then shock overtook them.
That immense Psyker Power—such a thing should not have existed in this world.
If gods still existed in this world, then this infant was surely a miracle that put divine wonders to shame.
In less than a nanosecond, the two acted in perfect unison, suppressing the entire mountain range with their Psyker Power and preventing the slightest trace of information from escaping.
"My lord, this is... my heavens, how is this possible!"
The normally composed chancellor of the Imperium was incoherent now, his face flushed as he waved his arms like a child.
"This is mankind's hope! The hope of us all! There is no treasure in existence more precious than this. We can return to the Age of Technology-no! Surpass the Age of Technology!"
The Emperor naturally understood why his old friend was so excited. He wore a rare smile.
Compared with humanity's ancient forebears, modern humans were more prone to stirring the Sea of Souls.
Genetic modification had strengthened human bodies, but it had also altered human souls, making them more susceptible to the Warp's influence. The Emperor refused to believe those beings in the Warp had played no part in it.
The Imperium's various genetic programs were currently striving to turn humans into "perfect humans," but repeated failures resulted from humanity's genes resembling a horribly mangled mountain of spaghetti code.
And now, such ancient genetic sequences had actually appeared.
"Haha! This calls for a celebration, my old friend."
The Emperor now felt that his adventure had been well worth it, even if he had nearly been blown to pieces in another world.
If that dimensional rift still existed, the Emperor would not have minded taking ten thousand Custodians through for another attempt. Provided the gains were sufficient, even losing all ten thousand there would be acceptable.
"My lord, we must give him a name."
The Emperor looked at the infant in his arms, who was smiling up at him.
He smiled gently too.
"Since he is the hope of a new beginning for mankind, let us call him 'Bona Plena.'"
Malcador was quite startled and gave the Emperor an incredulous look.
"Oh-goodness and hope. Such lofty honors are rare indeed. I fear the others..."
"Ahem. Why don't we discuss how to keep those four bastards from noticing him instead?"
The Emperor interrupted Malcador, but what he said was indeed worth Malcador's attention.
Amid the surging tides of the Warp, within the maddened Empyrean, there existed four dark gods of the Warp.
Tarot cards of the Chaos Gods
They were:
The god of courage and justice-Khorne.
The god of desire and ambition-Slaanesh.
The god of life and kindness-Nurgle.
The god of wisdom and hope-Tzeentch.
They were the greatest beings in the Warp. Their existence was...
Pong!
(The chronicler of this passage has been corrected by XXX. Citizens of the Imperium who see this content should report immediately to the nearest Inquisition office.)
To put it less rigorously, or from the perspective of the Emperor, the Master of Mankind, they were:
A warmonger whose head was full of nothing but killing, who spent all day stirring up wars yet sat in a wheelchair he could neither get into nor out of.
A madwoman dedicated to sustainably lowering the moral floor of the galaxy's carbon-based life, while also disgusting silicon-based and energy-based beings.
A fat bastard who concocted all manner of viruses and bacteria, devoted to turning the entire galaxy into a cesspit of deadly sludge.
A nerd who spent every day playing "why didn't he think about why I would wonder why he wouldn't do it for that reason?"
These four absurd freaks not only devoted themselves to tormenting most of the galaxy's life, but also despised one another and fought each other senseless.
One thing was certain, however: if the four discovered Bona's existence, they would set every dispute aside and rush over to snatch him first.
Malcador nodded.
"We must protect Bona now. At least until he has mastered his Psyker Power, we cannot let him leave this area. All of this is for mankind's great undertaking."
"I will arrange for the Adeptus Custodes and the Sisters of Silence to protect him around the clock," the Emperor said, nodding as well.
Suddenly, the infant in his arms began to cry.
The Emperor hurriedly soothed him, singing an ancient song. Seeming to sense the Emperor's presence, the infant opened his eyes.
Then the infant smiled, waving both hands in the air.
An unusual expression appeared on Malcador's face as well.
"What are our chances of victory now?"
"I don't know..."
The Emperor fell silent for a moment.
"But certainly better than before."
Before you continue