Beyond the realm, between the [Warp] and the veil of realspace, the rift that once tore open between dimensions had now completely become a main artery of the Honkai Dimension's super-spatial network.
Selene floated at the expanding junction of the netway, watching as the Imaginary Embryo—having devoured the essence of the so-called [Warp] gods—burst forth with boundless vitality and prosperity.
Then, at leisure, she took out an irregular crystalline cube and—crunch—took a bite.
As Selene chewed, faint traces of blood and ichor dripped from the crystal's fractured edges. Within those murmuring fluids, distant shrieks—high-pitched, hysterical cries of [Warp] daemons gnashing their incorporeal teeth—echoed through the splintered fragments, steeped in soul-rending hatred and terror.
She was in excellent spirits, enjoying even such foul-tasting fare with genuine appetite.
Her hands did not pause. While continuing to construct and extend the Honkai Dimension's primary artery to integrate with the Warhammer universe, anchoring every node in place, she simultaneously monitored the state of realspace within the domain—organizing the auxiliary branches based on the ancient webway remnants left behind by the Old Ones and the ancient Aeldari Empire.
The place where Selene now stood was once a boundless void. Apart from the most fundamental layers of primitive spacetime, it contained absolutely nothing—not even a single particle. True desolation.
However, once it became the intermediary point between the Warhammer universe, the newly born Imaginary Tree, and the Honkai super-spatial netway—
Countless crystal-clear roots of the Imaginary Tree pierced through the barriers of dimensions, bursting upward from the emptiness. From its branches descended tendrils of radiant vines, intertwining densely in a vast lattice.
The surrounding primordial spacetime began to anchor itself—to stabilize.
Under Selene's will, corresponding physical laws of the universe were sketched into form.
Using her own thoughts as the foundation, she condensed several planetary cores and cast them outward. These dark stars sprouted and took root, each emanating a terrifying gravitational pull. In her sight—*whoosh—*mountains, oceans, snowfields, forests, rivers, and skies came together, forming before her eyes.
Everything a normal habitable world could possess—Selene shaped it all, molding the terrain into what would serve as the relay stations of the Honkai super-spatial network.
Soon, beneath her fingertips, there took shape a "transfer station" larger in volume than the solar system of Terra's Throne World.
Just as Selene, in her artistic curiosity, pondered whether to adorn it with one or several suns, or perhaps add a Shield World, a Dyson Sphere, or ring structures—"Hm?"
She paused briefly. "Authorized."
Vmmm—
At her word, the dark void shuddered. From the newly stabilized main artery of the Honkai network, a distorted violet-red flare tore open the black curtain. A colossal fleet emerged.
Battleships, cruisers, massive factory-fabricator vessels, large transport ships, multipurpose engineering vessels, patrol craft of the Department of Justice, administrative arks of the Department of State, and even her own Inquisitorial prison ships—all traversed the freshly molded, star-system-sized relay station, coalescing into a man-made nebula of forged steel.
"Let's see... civilian supplies, administrative personnel, internal affairs officials, support fleets from the Imperial Forge Department..."
Selene glanced over the fleet manifests.
There was plenty of material. As the new Emperor of Terra, she bore full responsibility—whether one said 'great power brings great responsibility' or 'absolute power brings absolute duty,' both applied equally well.
It was time to get some real work done.
The first task was solving the food problem for the hiveworld poor—not only on Terra, but across the entire human Imperium. After all, with her vaults overflowing with supplies—so much that they risked molding in the granaries—it would be an embarrassment to have famine and starvation spreading under her reign.
She couldn't boast of a utopian golden age, but she would at least ensure that the fields were not barren and the streets not strewn with corpses. It would be unacceptable to govern worse than the Emperor and the former High Lords.
That, she thought, was her minimum standard.
Still... hmm, she counted mentally. "Wait, how many waves have I sent already? Why does it feel like I'm expanding my empire and still somehow losing?"
A laugh escaped her lips at the absurd thought.
Of course, it was just a joke. One couldn't calculate empire-building like that. If Selene had chosen to inherit the Emperor's mess, she certainly wasn't concerned about such trivial losses of material. What she sought was the spirit—the essence—of the human Imperium itself.
As Selene's thoughts leapt from one idea to another, she pondered how best to preserve and refine the Imperium of Man's indomitable spirit—how to take its essence while discarding its rot. Suddenly—whoosh!
A vessel broke away from the fleet—a government ark of the Department of State. Though its armaments were light, its hull gleamed in gold and silver splendor, radiant as a palace fit for divine bureaucracy. It drifted toward Selene, who hovered before the anchored gateway of the super-spatial corridor.
"Your Majesty, may your divine body be at peace."
On the open plaza of the ark, a host of imperial officials stood in ceremonial robes, jade belts gleaming, ritual tablets in hand. Bearded and solemn, they bowed deeply before the colossal figure who held sun and stars within her grasp.
"I am well," Selene replied with regal calm. "You have come a long way, and your task is heavy and vital. I commend your diligence."
Hearing the rustle of bowed heads behind her, Selene turned her gaze toward the incoming ranks of civil officials—those who would replace the purged High Lords and their factions in the Terran Reformation. After the customary greetings, her tone sharpened.
"The contents of your mission and all key directives are already known to you, my loyal ministers of the administrative seas. There is no need for repetition."
Her voice carried absolute authority. "By decree, this conquered world shall be designated as a directly governed central province, answerable only to me."
Then came her ruling for the Warhammer universe's new status: "Central Direct Dominion—Sector A–13."
"Notify the Imperial Forge Department's engineering divisions. Construction of the interstellar relay port at this junction may begin at once."
"Yes! By your will, we obey," the officials chorused, bowing deeply.
Selene inclined her head slightly, motioning for their dismissal. "You may proceed."
Vmmm—
At her command, the supreme edict rippled through the entire fleet. Across every formation, the colossal ships of the Forge Department roared to life, detaching from the main group to occupy the newly formed celestial bodies.
Each division had its task. The fleets of the internal affairs officials, law enforcers, and inquisitors followed, accompanied by naval defense ships, troop carriers for auxiliary regiments, and transports laden with vassal armies.
In the span of moments, the skeletal framework of an interstellar transit hub began to take shape.
More ships arrived in steady rhythm, entering the vast Central Direct Dominion—Sector A–13—also known as the Warhammer World.
Selene nodded in satisfaction. Everything had been set in motion. With the Imaginary Tree continuing to be nourished, its growth was inevitable. In time, Sector A–13 would become an inseparable part of the Sacred Selene Empire.
Once assimilation advanced further, her true form would no longer trigger cosmic cataclysms simply by stretching out her hand.
It was time to return.
With a faint look of inquiry in her eyes, Selene turned toward the swirling vortex of the netway.
...
Beyond the outer boundary of the A–13 Dominion, the Honkai super-spatial corridor pulsed with light. Vast streams of plasma exhaust blazed from the engines of countless ships, their incandescent flares like miniature suns burning away the darkness of physical space.
Within this narrow system gathered the last seven surviving gene-sons of humanity and their father—the former Master of Mankind, now the appointed Governor of the Grand Dominion.
"Hmph. A dried-up old relic who toys with sorcery," came one voice.
"Heh. A rusted husk who plays with souls," answered another.
Thus began the meeting between the leaders of two once-supreme races of the galaxy. Sadly, the Aeldari had long since fallen beyond redemption.
The atmosphere between Szarekh, the Silent King of the Necrons, and the Emperor of Mankind was anything but cordial—tense, almost hostile.
"How dare you, xeno!"
Rogal Dorn, the Emperor's steadfast son, stepped forward, heavy chainsword humming in his hands, fury trembling through his every muscle.
Selene might be the new sovereign of humanity, the new Emperor of Terra—but this alien? What right had he to speak so brazenly in their presence?
"You are mistaken," Szarekh's voice resonated coldly. "Our exchange is merely a minor deviation within a calculated probability. A trivial interlude."
At his side, one of his Triarch Praetorians drew his phase halberd, the green field of phased energy crackling as it aligned into an offensive stance, emerald sparks flickering across his armored gauntlets.
"Enough, enough," sighed Sanguinius, stepping between them with exasperated grace. "We are all allies now. Any conflict between comrades is a mistake—and I'd rather not raise my hand against my own kin."
Truly, even he was bewildered. Having departed Cadia and traveled to the galaxy's dark frontier, he had only just quelled the turmoil of the Baal system, purging the Tyranid hive fleets that had plagued it. Before he could even exchange proper words with the sons of the late Angel of Baal, he was abruptly reassigned here by a single imperial order.
Why me? Well... perhaps it was true that General Budo was not suited to play mediator. Lorgar could have done it, but he had already been summoned to Terra to serve the Empress directly.
Still, the results were decent enough. Though unaware of the deeper history between the Blood Angels and the Necrons, Sanguinius—ever the peacemaker—found both sides remarkably cooperative for his sake.
Firmly pressing down Rogal Dorn's roaring chainsword with one hand and shattering the Praetorian's phase-field halberd with a single slap, Sanguinius unfurled his wings and, without waiting for protest, led both former rulers of the galaxy—the Emperor of Mankind and the Silent King—into the swirling vortex of the super-spatial netway.
"To keep Her Majesty waiting would be a grave discourtesy!" he declared as they vanished from sight.
Left behind stood the astonished Primarchs, the Custodes commanders, and the Necron overlords, exchanging looks of disbelief.
"Oi, Jaghatai, what's going on? Has Father's brain gone soft after sitting on the Golden Throne for ten thousand years? He's cracking jokes now!"
The Wolf King of Fenris jabbed his elbow into the Chogorian Warhawk beside him, incredulous.
"Is that such a bad thing?"
Jaghatai Khan smiled faintly, taking a swig of kumis before rinsing away the metallic tang of blood that clung to him. The Great Purge of Terra, after all, had been his handiwork.
"If anything, this is his true nature. What we once saw—the rigid, unyielding figure—was merely the burden of responsibility forcing him into that mold."
Standing side by side, Guilliman met his brother's gaze and nodded. "And now... that unimaginable weight no longer rests on him alone."
Together, they turned their eyes toward the far side of the void's threshold.
There, the grand fleets of the Sacred Selene Empire emerged in precise formation, each ship moving in flawless synchronization under the calculated coordination of its captains, streaming outward from the vast port into their assigned sectors across the stars.
...
"Administrative report: Imperial Capital's Council of Internal Affairs—attendance notice for Punishers Legion Colony II-202149, Governor Kiana Kaslana ('Attack on Titan' sector), who has submitted her debriefing and report."
Multitasking was second nature to Selene. While patiently awaiting the audience of her newly appointed governors, she continued refining the structural lattice of the Imaginary Tree—while simultaneously browsing the Imperial Capital's administrative system.
Kiana, it seemed, had learned some tricks.
After stabilizing her colony's development and pacifying the local unrest, the white-haired troublemaker had taken to playing the pitiable bureaucrat—pleading poverty and shortage of resources at the council meeting, petitioning for additional material allocations and Forge Department advisory quotas.
"Not bad. She's finally grasped one of the essentials of leadership."
A competent official—or governor—needed many qualities, but Kiana's current behavior fit one of the most important: a good leader always fought for more funding and policy favor for their department. Even if they did nothing else, their subordinates would never dare to remove or undermine them.
"Did someone advise her?" Selene mused. "That fluffy little fool shouldn't have figured this out alone."
Instinctively, an image of Senti's smirking, chaotic face flashed in her mind.
She sighed. "No matter. At least she's working within the system. No stunts or rebellion. That's progress."
If Kiana had dared propose tax exemptions or rate reductions, that would have been a disaster.
"Inform Chancellor Lan—he's not to show favoritism on my account. Treat her as any other official. Standard merit-based evaluations and allocations."
Selene issued the order to her administrative assistant AI, Mendicant Bias.
"Hmm... but the aid package already approved by the Council—leave it as is. Deliver the full amount. This time only."
"Yes, Your Majesty," came the mechanical reply, the synthesized tone perfectly neutral. "Shall I delete the record of your viewing this report from the archives?"
Normally, any file personally accessed by Selene would be marked in red—alerting officials to prepare detailed summaries, as it signified imperial scrutiny.
"No. Leave it. And tell Lan—I never issued any direct order regarding this."
"As you command."
Ending the transmission, Selene leaned forward, her gaze descending toward the time-space vortex beneath the branches of the Imaginary Tree, where two groups of figures were emerging.
"All within the net," she murmured with satisfaction.
Whoosh—
Without hesitation, Selene extended her vast Imaginary claws, enveloping them completely.
"I have awaited you, my subjects. Do not resist..."
Fwoom—
—
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