During the Master of Mankind's sojourn in the Super God reality, Malcador the Sigillite had labored without respite. The burden of governing humanity's nascent empire fell upon his shoulders—from Terra's seven continents to Luna's gene-forges, every facet of Imperial administration demanded his attention.
He had established the High Lords of Terra and overseen the reconstruction of humanity's cradle world.
Under his guidance, the War Council allocated vital materiel and war machinery while orbital stations and void platforms rose from the ashes of the Age of Strife.
The Sigillite had pressed the Selenar Gene-Cults to commit their resources to the Astartes project, selecting worthy candidates for the first implantation of the Emperor's genetic modifications.
anwhile, Captain-General Valdor pursued dual mandates—executing the clandestine research protocols while purging seditious elents from the young Empire's foundations.
Terra remained a world birthed in violence, experiencing the agonies of transformation from chaos to order.
The ancient powers defeated by the Emperor's legions had not submitted to Unity's will. They lurked in the wasteland's shadows and urban depths, marshaling strength for renewed rebellion.
So refused to acknowledge the new reality, clinging to delusions of the past's return. Others recognized the dawn's arrival all too clearly—and vowed to strangle it in its crib, casting Terra back into the dark ages of perpetual war.
Cultists of forbidden deities continued their blasphemous ministrations in secret, seeking to inject corruption's poison into the Empire's very foundations. Valdor found himself compelled to employ increasingly extre asures to preserve the nascent order.
Simultaneously, the Captain-General supervised construction of the Imperial Palace—that monunt to Unity which would span the Himalayan range and the Tibetan plateau. The undertaking dwarfed all previous human achievents in scale and ambition.
The mountain climate proved treacherous, its thin atmosphere and frigid temperatures requiring constant adjustnt by atmospheric processors working beyond their design limits.
The Tower of Hegemon and Imperial Senate—future seats of absolute power—existed only as foundation works, their completion lying years hence.
Both servants of the Emperor labored tirelessly to defend and strengthen this new realm while their master walked between realities.
Upon the Emperor's return, they presented detailed reports of their stewardship and, per His instructions, assembled the great host that would carry Unity to the red planet.
When the Raven materialized in realspace, Terra's orbital sphere blazed with the assembled might of humanity's first interplanetary war fleet.
Hundreds of majestic vessels hung in the void's embrace, their hulls scarred by millennia of conflict yet restored to deadly purpose.
Among them, one golden leviathan commanded all attention—the flagship that would bear the Emperor's presence to Mars.
"Behold the Bucephelus," Malcador announced, gesturing toward the magnificent vessel. "A relic of the Dark Age of Technology, abandoned incomplete when Old Night fell upon us. We have salvaged her from the void and restored her to glory."
The Raven studied the golden aquila adorning the flagship's prow and nodded approvingly. "She possesses appropriate majesty."
The Emperor examined the vessel's specifications with satisfaction. The Bucephelus employed plasma drives for real-space maneuvering and utilized the Warp for faster-than-light translation—a necessity that troubled Him greatly.
'Subspace navigation remains our greatest weakness,' He reflected. 'To sail through the realm of Chaos invites corruption with every journey.'
The wormhole technologies witnessed in the Super God reality had proven far more stable, their dinsional barriers protecting travelers from malevolent influence.
The Emperor recalled Karl's displacent thodology—the ability to alter relative spatial positions without traversing the Warp's treacherous currents.
"The Super Gene Universe's fate-threads have shifted beyond thirty percent deviation," the Raven inford Him. "Predetermined destiny has collapsed entirely. Should you return there, your full power shall be unleashed."
The Emperor nodded gravely. "That reality faces grave peril—possibly serving as a breeding ground for void entities. I shall require maximum capability to confront such threats."
Through careful analysis of accumulated intelligence, the Master of Mankind had reached disturbing conclusions regarding the Ultimate Fear.
Either ancient evil gods maintained all known civilizations as cattle for periodic harvesting, or elder races systematically culled younger species for unknowable purposes.
The Raven favored the latter hypothesis. Mindless entities lacked the subtlety to erase all traces of their predation—only advanced civilizations possessed such thoroughness.
"These elder races deny advancent to their successors," the Emperor observed with controlled fury. "They maintain technological stagnation, keeping younger civilizations as captive resources for exploitation. The knowledge earned through countless sacrifices ultimately serves only their masters."
"When next we enter that reality, we shall unravel these mysteries," He continued, His voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction. "I will never permit humanity to serve as livestock for any entity—divine or otherwise."
"First things first, Emperor," the Raven interjected pragmatically. "Mars awaits conquest."
The Emperor turned to Valdor with imperial command. "Make sail. Set course for Mars."
The Captain-General acknowledged with crisp efficiency, signaling the fleet herald to transmit orders across all vessels.
One by one, the warships ignited their drives, brilliant azure flas painting the void with humanity's purpose. Massive hulls accelerated along predetermined vectors, carrying Unity's ssage to the red world where mankind's ancestors had first touched alien soil.
Mars. Olympus Mons.
The Solar System's mightiest peak dominated the rust-colored landscape, its cliffs rising thirty kiloters above the ancient seabeds.
During the Golden Age, terraforming had brought verdant life to these wastes—only to be consud by the endless foundries and weapon-forges that followed.
The summit's atmosphere grew violent without warning. Wrathful storms gathered obsidian clouds that churned with supernatural fury, as though the world's ending had co at last.
Thunderous roars echoed from the heavens while golden radiance pierced the darkness, illuminating Mars' desolate surface in brilliant intervals.
Such portents drew every inhabitant of the red world to witness what must surely be divine intervention.
Tech-Guard knights piloted their chanical steeds toward the mountain's crown, activating void shields and charging weapon systems in preparation for unknown threats.
The roiling clouds began to weep—not the acid precipitation common to polluted atmospheres, but pure water that fell across the entire planet. For inhabitants who had never witnessed such phenona, this could only be a miraculous intervention.
As the faithful marveled at this blessing, the celestial thunder reached a crescendo. Brilliant illumination carved through the storm-front, casting radiance from on high while scarlet lightning danced across the sky in web-like patterns.
A magnificent golden city descended through the clouds, its enormity beyond mortal comprehension.
The vessel's hull blazed with divine luminescence, its massive aquila figurehead seeming to soar even while at rest.
Towering spires and battlents extended the craft's full length while engine arrays beneath generated the colossal energies required to maintain position within planetary gravity.
This was the Bucephelus—the Emperor's chosen vessel.
"By the Machine-God's blood," whispered the Tech-Guard knights, "how can such mass maintain hover within gravity's grip?"
The enormous starship settled less than one hundred ters above the surface. Engine thunder shook the very mountains while displaced atmosphere generated hurricane winds that scoured the ancient regolith.
Piston chanisms larger than Titan war-engines hissed as they deployed a boarding ramp wide enough for entire legion formations to march abreast.
As the ramp descended, golden radiance poured forth, bathing the Martian landscape in warm, welcoming luminescence.
A figure in aureate armor descended the ramp, and the light moved with Him. When His foot touched Martian soil, the storms ceased their fury, and the celestial illumination faded. In the dimness that followed, only the golden aura surrounding this being provided illumination.
All who witnessed this manifestation held their breath in reverent awe. The arrival carried perfection beyond mortal achievent—truly divine intervention made manifest.
He wore no helt nor breathing apparatus, yet Mars' toxic atmosphere posed no hindrance to His presence. The figure approached the foremost knight and spoke with a voice like honey and thunder combined.
"Your mount suffers damage, Tymon Foticordia."
Martian Orbit
The Raven perched within a command vessel alongside Valdor and Malcador, excitingly orchestrating the theatrical elents of the Emperor's arrival.
"Look, look, Old man! The Emperor has made planetfall! 'The great Omnissiah, eternal God of All Machines, prepares to reveal His miracle—make those clouds churn with greater violence!"
"Hurry, Constatine! Increase precipitation patterns! Weather controllers to maximum output—we need atmospheric drama, but keep it clear around Big Guy's imdiate vicinity!"
"And the lightning! More lightning! Fill the entire sky with electric fury!"
"Can you incompetents manage this or not? Fail and you'll spend eternity guarding water features!"
"The scene must inspire awe—this is not just a show, it's PRESENTATION. Make it magnificent!"
The Raven's excited comntary continued unabated, its enthusiasm bordering on manic delight.
Malcador stared in silent disbelief: "..."
Valdor maintained stoic composure: "..."
'Your instructions make us sound like common charlatans orchestrating theatrical deception!'
Author's Note: The Warhamr universe does indeed possess wormhole technology—humanity's Golden Age builders created interconnected portal networks spanning the galaxy. However, these systems ultimately relied upon Warp transit for their fundantal operation, subjecting travelers to the sa spiritual perils that plague conventional faster-than-light travel.
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