Time rewinds to five days ago.
It was the same secret conference hall created by Adam's power.
The dark gold walls were carved with complex geometric patterns. Those patterns seemed alive, breathing slowly in an invisible rhythm. Above the dome, soft light poured down from an unknown source, making the entire space transparent and warm.
At this moment, three Primarchs sat here.
The Lord of the Iron Hands Legion, Ferrus Manus, sat upright in his position. His metal arms glinted with a cold, hard luster under the dim light, and his body exuded a cold aura like a precision war machine.
Beside him, Sanguinius sat as still as a pine. His white wings were folded behind him, every feather radiating a soft glow.
Roboute Guilliman sat on the far right. He crossed his hands on the tabletop, his fingertips lightly tapping the surface, producing a rhythmic, muffled sound.
In front of them, at the head of the conference room, Adam sat there with a smile.
His figure appeared so small compared to those Primarchs, like a child sitting among giants. However, that composed temperament and that expression as if everything was under control made him appear taller than anyone else in this space.
Behind Adam stood a holy statue of the Emperor.
It was a statue cast from the purest gold, the Emperor's face carved to be lifelike. His brow was slightly furrowed, the corners of his mouth carrying a faint curve, and in those hollow golden eyes, a compassionate gaze seemed to flow.
The Emperor's gaze passed over Adam's shoulder, looking straight at the three Primarchs.
Even though it was just a statue, just lifeless gold, Ferrus, Sanguinius, and Guilliman all felt that gaze. That gaze penetrated their armor, penetrated their flesh, and shone directly into the depths of their souls.
An indescribable warmth spread out.
"Now then, let us discuss the combat plan for this operation."
Adam's voice broke the silence in the hall. As he spoke, he waved his hand lightly in the air.
A star map unfolded.
It was a high-precision star map of the Empire. Every star, every shipping lane, and every sub-space coordinate was clearly and densely marked. Blue points of light flickered in the void, outlining a magnificent picture of the galaxy.
Among them, two planets were highlighted.
Cadia.
Pandorax.
Red circles ringed these two planets, making them stand out in the entire star map.
Adam's voice was calm and certain: "Since everyone unanimously agrees with the proposal I put forward—that is, utilizing the defenses on the Cadia side to make the Chaos forces lose sight of one another through two-front warfare."
His gaze slowly swept across everyone present, his tone steady.
"Then, we now need to begin discussing the specific execution details."
Guilliman raised his hand.
His other hand was flipping through the combat plan outline in front of him. Those thin sheets of paper looked exceptionally fragile in his giant palm. Guilliman's brow furrowed, his gaze lingering for a long time on those overly brief, or even vague, paragraphs.
"Correct, but I have a question."
Guilliman's voice echoed in the hall. His finger tapped lightly on a certain paragraph in the outline.
"If our goal is to defend Cadia, there is no doubt that from all aspects, we cannot treat it like Pandorax and set it as bait. We absolutely cannot attract Chaos's attack in an undefended posture."
He looked up, his gaze fixed on Adam.
"We must build permanent military fortresses there, deploy layers of defensive lines, complete the armed preparation of the entire planet, and so on. But—"
Guilliman paused.
"Will such a large-scale mobilization of troops attract the attention of the Chaos forces? Thereby causing our plan to fail?"
As his voice fell, the hall lapsed into a brief silence.
"Indeed."
Ferrus nodded.
His eyes flickered, as if countless calculation results were flashing in the depths of his pupils.
"This problem does exist."
Ferrus spoke, his voice carrying a metallic resonance.
"Guilliman is right. If the situation is really like this, then my suggestion is that we should not concentrate too much power on Pandorax."
His finger traced a line in the air, and a virtual tactical image unfolded on the table.
"We can execute a 'base-trading' strategy."
Ferrus's voice was cold and ruthless, filled with an aesthetic unique to a war machine.
"That is, strike first. Directly drop an Exterminatus on Pandorax, and not let those Chaos conspiracies succeed."
"After all, the survival of one planet is trivial compared to the battle situation concerning the fate of the entire Empire."
Exterminatus.
These words echoed in the hall.
Sanguinius did not speak immediately; he only sighed softly. A hint of compassion flashed in his golden eyes, but he did not refute Ferrus's proposal. After all, under the threat of Chaos, any trace of hesitation could bring about irreversible consequences.
"No, I feel that you all are overthinking it."
Adam shook his head, rejecting the idea.
His body leaned forward slightly, hands crossed on the table, as he said slowly:
"Reinforcing troops and repairing fortifications here at Cadia is the most normal of routine operations."
"In the eyes of Chaos, they will only think this is the Empire's routine deployment in response to a Black Crusade. They would never think that their plan to invade Pandorax has long been fully seen by us."
His gaze swept over the faces of the three Primarchs one by one.
Adam's voice paused.
"Precisely these normal movements become the best cover. It makes them certain that we know nothing about the conspiracy on Pandorax."
That is too idealized.
Guilliman's brow remained tightly locked.
His thoughts began to drift. Countless possibilities flashed through his mind: the cunning of Chaos, the unpredictability of the Warp, the accuracy of intelligence, the scale of troop movements, the pressure of logistics...
But soon, he pulled his thoughts back.
Indeed.
From a certain perspective, Adam's words made sense.
Just then—
Warmth.
An indescribable warmth suddenly appeared.
That warmth ignored all physical laws, directly penetrating the power armor of the three Primarchs, penetrating their flesh and bones, and arriving directly at the deepest part of their souls.
Hearts began to beat faster.
Blood began to boil.
That long-lost sense of power surged from the depths of their marrow, rushing through their blood vessels, roaring in their muscles.
Exalted.
Full of power.
At the same moment, everyone turned their gaze to the holy statue of the Emperor in the center of the conference room.
The golden statue was glowing.
The light was not dazzling, yet it carried an unnameable majesty. The Emperor's face seemed to come alive in that light, and in the hollow eyes, a real gaze was flowing.
Emperor: I have no objection.
No words were needed; everyone instantly understood the will of the Master of Mankind—He approved of this plan.
The three Primarchs withdrew their gazes simultaneously. They already understood His meaning.
Since Father agreed, what else did they have to say?
The meeting continued.
The subsequent discussion proceeded exceptionally smoothly, with almost no arguments or disagreements. The three Primarchs' thoughts operated at a speed beyond that of mortals. Every tactical detail was quickly discussed, finalized, and recorded.
Soon, they reached an agreement.
Ferrus Manus would lead the assembled Iron Hands Legion to Cadia. He would use his talents in machinery to turn that planet into an airtight iron defensive line. Every fortress would be an indestructible bastion, every defensive line a kill zone.
Guilliman would lead a large army to Pandorax. He would lie in wait there, awaiting the arrival of the Chaos forces. That lush planet would become a giant bait, luring the Chaos army into a trap. Then, annihilation.
Finally—
Sanguinius would remain to guard Terra.
This was not because of insufficient ability; quite the opposite. Because of the existence of the Eternity Gate wormhole system, Sanguinius could transport through the wormhole to any battlefield at any time.
He would be the general reserve.
When other Primarchs encountered enemies they could not handle—Sanguinius would quickly come to support.
Of course.
Everyone sitting here knew in their hearts who this arrangement was meant to help.
Would Ferrus call for Sanguinius's support? Would the Son of the Gorgon, covered in technological gear and armed to the teeth, need anyone's help?
No.
This arrangement was left for a certain Imperial Regent who was not particularly good at dueling.
The corner of Guilliman's mouth twitched.
However, he said nothing.
After everything ended, everyone turned their gaze to Adam.
Guilliman spoke first:
"In that case, you should tell us about those so-called preparations, shouldn't you?"
There was a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Adam smiled.
"Naturally."
He reached lightly into his pocket and took out a strangely shaped cube.
The cube rotated slowly in his hand, emitting an eerie green light. The surface was covered with dense runes that constantly changed shape in the light, like living things.
But this hyper-dimensional prison had clearly undergone a special modification; it was translucent.
Through that translucent shell, with the Primarchs' superhuman vision, they could faintly see the scene inside.
Dense black dots.
Those black dots floated inside the cube, arranged quietly. The number was so vast it made one's skin crawl.
Adam's finger lightly brushed the surface of the hyper-dimensional prison. The translucent shell rippled slightly under his touch, like a disturbed water droplet.
He looked up, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the three Primarchs, his voice neither fast nor slow.
"I have a question for you."
"Which ship do you consider to be the strongest Gloriana-class battleship in the Empire?"
The three Primarchs frowned simultaneously.
"The Macragge's Honour," Guilliman spoke first.
"It depends on the situation. However—if we include the modifications by Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, the Macragge's Honour," Ferrus remained rigorous and added the last sentence, "Of course, this is just my personal view."
"It should be the Macragge's Honour," Sanguinius spoke last. "But if we count the Chaos Gloriana-class ships that have already betrayed the Empire, the situation might change."
"Very good."
Adam nodded slightly.
He flicked his finger against the surface of the hyper-dimensional prison.
The three Primarchs simultaneously perceived the change.
Like a famous thought experiment, only when the observation occurs is the object anchored to one state. They emerged from a superposition state between void and reality, becoming truly and irreversibly real entities.
Those black dots floating in the hyper-dimensional prison, those models, finally presented themselves in their true appearance before the eyes of the three Primarchs at this moment.
Six thousand Gloriana-class battleships floated quietly in the internal space of the hyper-dimensional prison.
Deathly silence fell over the hall.
...
Time returns to the present.
Memories receded like a tide.
Guilliman blinked. Those images from five days ago dissipated rapidly in his mind, replaced at this moment by the real scene seen through the armored glass of the bridge of the Macragge's Honour.
The void.
The dark void.
And, at the end of that darkness, that iconic warship.
The Vengeful Spirit.
Behind that warship, the Chaos fleet was frantically reorganizing. Guilliman could see those ships turning hastily in the void, the light of void shields flickering one after another like startled fireflies. Those heretics clearly had not recovered from the shock of the sudden appearance of six thousand Gloriana-class battleships.
To tell the truth, when Guilliman had just awakened, when he first learned that Abaddon had actually taken up his father's mantle and become the Chaos Warmaster, once again becoming the Empire's number one threat, Guilliman indeed felt an indescribable absurdity.
However, Guilliman's gaze became sharper.
An excellent commander never relaxes because of the enemy's identity. Whether the opponent was Abaddon or any other being.
So, let's say hello to this good nephew first.
Guilliman turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the flagship commander beside him.
The order was given.
He said: "Fire."
Then, the void was torn apart.
As if six thousand suns lit up at the same time, six thousand beams of pure light and heat converged into vast rivers of radiance. Those giant shells erupted from the muzzles, cutting through the void, trailing long exhaust flames behind them, illuminating the dark universe, roaring and devouring everything in their path!