In the heart of the chaotic tumult of the Immaterium, an inconceivable anomaly was taking shape. A city, immense and of impossible architecture, was slowly rising. Its structures were of an immaculate white and a brilliant gold, defying the colors of blood and rot that dominated the Warp. It seemed made of solidified light, a stain of absolute order in an ocean of pure madness.
At the center of this city under construction stood the Seraphim. His form, now fully Maykr, was a majestic silhouette of white and gold, holding a magnificent golden scepter that pulsed with a calming silvery energy. Around him, the activity was frantic, yet eerily silent. His laborers were not slaves or ordinary servants. Using his Maykr knowledge, he had captured lesser demons from the Space Hulks he had explored. Through a process of violent purification and reprogramming, he had transformed them, breaking their chaotic essence into simple automatons, servitor Maykrs with pale light-wings and mechanical movements. They worked tirelessly, erecting the walls and spires of the future fortress.
This city was not merely a bastion. It was a replica, a new root of the kingdom of Urdak, transplanted into the most hostile dimension imaginable.
The Seraphim raised his scepter, his silver eyes scanning the endless currents of the Warp. A presence was making itself felt, approaching his location. Another storm, or perhaps the attention of a greater power.
"The Khan Maykr will rise soon," he murmured, his voice resonating with an authority that temporarily soothed the surrounding chaos. "I must move the city. It must be blessed by His light."
With a sweeping gesture of his scepter, silvery runes flared in the unreal air. The entire city, with its half-built towers and silent servitors, began to glide through the Warp. It did not navigate like a ship; it shifted, repositioning itself within the non-space of the Immaterium, seeking a point of balance, a place where the light of the Khan Maykr – that source of supreme Maykr power – could pierce the veils of reality and touch this new Urdak.
It was an act of monumental defiance. Not only was he building a fortress in the realm of the Chaos Gods, but he was inviting the blessing of a deity of an entirely different order. The Warp groaned, sensing this insult to its very nature. But for now, the will of the Seraphim and Maykr power held firm. Julius Braveheart's bastion at the heart of hell was taking shape, awaiting its final consecration.