Terra.
The tide of Chaos from the Warp had completely receded.
Before the Eternity Gate of the Imperial Palace, squads of Imperial Guard soldiers moved in scattered formations, methodically clearing the battlefield. Broken weapons, congealed blood, and the twisted remains left behind after the daemon-tide's retreat were all within their scope of cleanup. The air was thick with the scent of cordite mixed with purifying agents.
At this moment.
The Imperial Regent, Son of Vengeance, Roboute Guilliman, had left the command center situated atop the Palace walls and returned to his private office. The heavy wooden doors closed behind him, sealing out the noise and clamor of the outside world.
The Regent's footsteps echoed in the vast room as he rounded the massive desk and sat heavily into the ornately decorated chair.
As Imperial Regent, Guilliman's work never ceased. Even though the Imperium had just concluded a grand war rare in history and secured a magnificent victory, the mountain of post-war administrative tasks would not disappear on its own. They had to be handled immediately.
Guilliman let out a sigh.
The documents before him were piled high. The various papers formed thick stacks, some even spilling off the desk and scattering across the floor like an avalanche.
Guilliman took a deep breath and began processing the post-war affairs. His fingers moved quickly across the papers, pausing occasionally to jot down annotations.
"—The Minister of the Adeptus Administratum died unexpectedly; detailed intelligence on the Hexarchy was found in his office... It seems that Callidus Assassin has successfully escaped according to plan by faking her death. This matter must be dealt with instantly."
Guilliman frowned slightly, drawing a heavy mark on the edge of the document as a reminder.
"Establish a special investigation task force immediately, with participation from the Administratum, the Inquisition, and the Adeptus Custodes. A detailed report must be submitted within one month. During this period, all clues related to the Hexarchy, regardless of size, must be reported to the Regent's office at once."
"—Reconstruction of the Eternal City? The damage caused by the Chaos tide to this hive city is indeed severe."
He flipped to the next document. When he saw the Inquisition's suggestion, his eyes darkened. "Demolish the entire hive city directly? This is too extreme. Rejected."
"The Primaris Astartes have triggered alerts in other Imperial departments... Why are there so many veiled expressions of dissatisfaction?"
Guilliman tapped the desk with his fingertip, his tone tinged with impatience. "It seems coordination needs to happen as soon as possible."
The next one. And the next. And the next.
The Inquisition, the Administratum, the Imperial Guard, the Navy, the Adeptus Mechanicus... countless streams of information converged into a flood, causing even this Primarch to feel a surge of irritation.
Even though Roboute Guilliman was renowned for his exceptional administrative capabilities, facing this endless work made him feel a sense of weariness.
How can there be so many things? I just want to get back to the excitement of battle...
Suddenly, his pen stopped. Guilliman's gaze fell on a specific file, and the corners of his mouth curled into a complex arc.
"The Ecclesiarchy is applying to designate yesterday as the 'Festival of Manifested Heroic Spirits' and is preparing to hold a grand celebration in the future?"
Guilliman shook his head, his tone clearly speechless. He had always been repulsed by religion, yet he understood the weight the Ecclesiarchy held within the Imperium.
Unable to help another sigh, Guilliman looked up at the figure opposite him.
"By the way, are you just going to keep watching? Can't you share some of this workload? You're certainly involved in this matter."
Standing before Guilliman was the Son of the Gorgon, Master of the Iron Hands Legion, honored by the Ecclesiarchy as the "Resurrected"—Ferrus Manus.
He leaned against the wall, his silver arms crossed over his chest. His face, a skull-like visage wreathed in psychic fire, held no expression. His very presence was like a statue—solid, quiet, and meticulous.
Guilliman's feelings toward this were complicated.
Firstly, he hated religion. The blind worship, the ignorant fanaticism, the laziness of attributing anything incomprehensible to a miracle—these things had nearly destroyed everything his father had built over the last ten thousand years.
But now...
Guilliman looked up at Ferrus again. If his brother was standing here right now, if those dead sons had truly returned in a way he could not fully explain... then what should the mortals who witnessed this believe? What should they use to explain what they had seen with their own eyes?
A miracle?
"Guilliman, I do not believe that is a good idea."
Ferrus's voice carried a metallic quality.
"You are the Imperial Regent, and I am not. I do not have the authority to handle these affairs. If I were to overstep my bounds, it would only trigger speculation about our relationship among other departments. According to my calculations, this would lead to a decrease in the overall operational efficiency of Imperial governance by at least 20%."
Setting aside his wandering thoughts, Guilliman gave a helpless smile. "You are just like you were ten thousand years ago—hardly changed at all."
"Speaking of ten thousand years ago, I actually thought I would have a chance to settle scores with Fulgrim today," Ferrus said. "After all, two of his victims appeared before the Imperial Palace. Knowing him, he would never pass up such a dramatic scene."
Guilliman was slightly taken or aback, then fell into a subtle silence. The two looked at each other, and the atmosphere in the office turned heavy for a moment.
"Is it not funny?" Ferrus's expression did not change in the slightest. "It seems my sense of humor still needs improvement."
"No, how should I put it... it is indeed quite 'funny'." Guilliman's eye twitched slightly.
This kind of dark humor, spoken by the person involved, felt even more like a "hell joke" than usual.
"Fine, I take back what I said earlier. You indeed have changed quite a bit."
"Perhaps." Ferrus's voice carried a rare hint of sentiment. "After all, ten thousand years have passed. People always change."
"During these ten thousand years, I have replayed the battle of Isstvan countless times. To be honest, I did not fight well then..." He paused, his tone becoming self-critical. "No, that's sugarcoating it. At that time, I was blinded by rage. I fought like a complete mess. It was simply a pile of dogshit."
"If I could do it over, I would surely end Fulgrim's suffering. Now that I have received Father's grace and returned to the real universe, I shall complete my unfinished mission."
"Let's not talk about that for now," Guilliman interrupted, his tone sincere. "I am truly glad you are back, my brother."
At this moment, Guilliman was overwhelmed with emotion. After ten thousand years, he was not alone. But the politician's mask he had worn for so long made him habitually restrain his emotions; the words stayed on the tip of his tongue and were eventually swallowed back down.
Just then, the office door was pushed open.
"Long time no see, you two."
Adam stepped inside, his posture relaxed. He greeted the two giants who occupied most of the room's space with a natural expression.