Above the void of Fanes, the Dreamweaver shone with a brilliance that made it impossible to look away.
Its arrival came without any warning. It simply slipped past the defense network's detection and reached low orbit.
Nothing could stop it. No one could ignore it.
Just like the authority and majesty of the Emperor of the Imperium.
No notice was required. The moment any Imperial subject saw that dreamlike warship, a single thought would rise in their mind—
The Emperor has arrived!
After all, aside from that being, who else could possess a conveyance so lavish, so grand?
Seconds later, more warships translated in, framing the Dreamweaver like attendants around a throne. The fleet's shadow fell across the planet's surface.
Everyone could feel that majesty, that sanctity.
"What do we do? We haven't prepared to receive Him!"
Zhabok wiped the stinking xenos filth from his face and, for the first time in a long while, looked genuinely at a loss.
His Majesty had come too quickly. That great and merciful presence was about to see Fanes at its most wretched.
The Necrodermis Governor was anxious—guilty, too. He had failed that being's trust.
In a sense, Fanes had deceived the Emperor. This place had lost the beauty described in the letter.
"The arrival of the sovereign's procession is already an unchangeable fact. We must receive that presence with the finest etiquette and the best appearance we can manage…"
Zhabok did not drift for long.
He issued orders at once, commanding the court officials to prepare the ceremony to welcome the Emperor immediately.
This practical Necrodermis Governor would not allow things to slide into an even worse outcome.
After that, the news traveled at millisecond speed, riding ripples of energy into the necrodermis field across the living-metal populace, then relayed by their mechanical channels throughout every hive.
The entire planet boiled over because the Emperor had come.
"The Rift Lord Chapter finally gets to meet His Majesty!"
Ansemor was exhilarated the moment he saw the Emperor's conveyance arrive.
But he couldn't help his confusion.
"Why do those Necron xenos 'allies' look even happier than we are?!"
He stepped forward and greeted the xenos leader.
"Xenos… ahem, allied species—come with me to pay audience to our Emperor."
He caught himself in time. "Xenos" was an insult in this context, and the last thing he wanted was a pointless clash right now.
"Chapter Master Ansemor, you may call me Zhabok, or address me as Governor, if you prefer."
Zhabok's tone carried displeasure as he explained, "It is true that the bodies of us Kalozasa Dynasty survivors have… certain problems.
"But without question, we are human. We are loyal subjects of the Imperium. We worship the Emperor as you do, Astartes, and we share the same ancestors."
The Necrodermis Governor despised having his identity questioned. His affliction could indeed invite misunderstanding.
Even so, though unhappy, he did not take it too personally. He simply explained with patience.
"Is this xenos chieftain insulting us?!"
Ansemor's expression changed on the spot. The moment the other party claimed to share the same ancestors, it carried the stench of humiliation.
Who was he calling a relative?
Who shares ancestors with a xenos?!
But he did not erupt. He only fell silent.
"Tch. Why should I bother arguing with a pack of lunatics?"
Ansemor shook his head. He didn't want to ruin the Emperor's plan.
Besides, he'd heard the Necron xenos weren't exactly right in the head.
Maybe they truly were mad—truly believed themselves human—running Fanes under a human identity.
And that, in turn, was why the Third Ecclesiarchy District's extremist renegades had called down Exterminatus.
He said nothing more. He followed behind the xenos leader, and his guard rose by degrees.
The Chapter Master feared the xenos "allies" might offend the Emperor—or worse, pose some kind of threat.
But Zhabok's mind was wholly consumed by the welcome ceremony. He paid little attention to the Rift Lord Chapter Master's slights.
They did not pause even for a moment, hurrying toward the primary hive's landing platform.
They had no choice. The Emperor's lander had already entered the atmosphere. They couldn't very well make that presence wait for them.
Aboard the flyer, Zhabok sounded frantic.
"Throne above… I don't even have time to change into formal vestments."
Forget resplendent attire and ceremonial adornment. There wasn't even time to call attendants to help scrub the grime off his armor.
His royal guards, in any case, lacked the fine manipulation to do such work.
Left with no alternative, the Necrodermis Governor could only go as he was—covered in battle scoring and filth—to meet the Emperor.
By the time they arrived, the landing platform was already a black sea of bodies. Court officials rushed about arranging the site.
Dynasty nobles streamed in from every direction.
As for the Rift Lord Chapter, their warriors occupied nearly half the ground. They were here to ensure the xenos did nothing to endanger the Emperor.
Many present were uneasy.
The Kalozasa Dynasty nobles were full of anxiety and guilt, while the Rift Lord Chapter stood wary and alert.
In that atmosphere, they saw one lander after another descend.
They came down without the least courtesy, whipping the platform into savage turbulence. Cloaks snapped and flared in the wind, banners thrumming like living things.
A great honor guard arrived in full battle panoply, draped in sacred scripture, fanning out along predesignated lanes to establish a perimeter.
Then two beams of light stabbed down. The ground roared.
Two Emperor Titans appeared, their frames hung with honor standards, and the platform itself groaned under the weight.
The sight of those god-machines drew gasps—and a deeper, colder sense of awe.
They understood then: such dreadful engines of war were, to the Emperor, no more than ceremonial ornaments.
In truth, if space had allowed it—and if there were no fear the platform would collapse—Savior's protocol division might have arranged an entire Titan maniple.
Now, the people waiting on the platform only yearned more to behold that great and merciful Emperor.
At last, beneath a surging hymn, a dark-gold lander of lavish splendor descended slowly along the light-screen projected by the fleet.
A massive ramp extended.
Elite Custodians in gilded Aquila helms stepped out and took their positions along both sides of the passage in perfect stillness.
Everyone could feel how powerful the Emperor's guardians were.
"As expected, a surprise inspection was the right move," Eden muttered on the dark-gold lander. "More pressure. More majesty."
He wore the True-One armor and a crimson cloak chased with gold. He looked sacred—oppressive in the way a living authority becomes a physical weight.
Walking down the passage toward the ramp, he could sense the storm of emotions rolling through the crowd.
A ruler's sudden arrival was always pressure for those below—especially when they knew they'd done wrong.
That was Eden's intention.
If he followed the normal procedures and waited until the Kalozasa Dynasty had prepared everything, his aura would be blunted.
Worse, it would give them time to think. That was not a good thing.
When Eden appeared before them, the choir and the cherubim's voices rose into a climax.
All eyes gathered on him—especially those of the Necrodermis Governor at the front, and the Chapter Master beside him.
The moment Eden saw Zhabok's ragged form, the deep scars, the devout gaze—
He knew it. The Crownless Phaeron's tomb-world inheritance, and that Necron fleet, were locked in. That was power enough to sweep across most sectors.
This Phaeron looked loyal through and through—like someone who'd worn himself thin for the sake of humanity's Imperium.
Under the Emperor's gaze, Zhabok's unease and guilt only grew sharper. He feared Fanes could not endure that being's wrath.
"Your Majesty… Fanes has failed your grace. We—"
He lurched forward, about to prostrate himself and beg forgiveness.
Eden moved faster.
His "acting" exploded into full force. He strode forward with visible agitation, not even bothering to straighten his cloak in time—like an ancient sage of Eden's homeworld who would greet a worthy man by snatching his hair back mid-wash and rushing out with shoes on the wrong feet.
He passed right by the Rift Lord Chapter Master—already half-kneeling in welcome—
And clasped the Necrodermis Governor's hands tightly, not allowing him to kneel.
His voice was warm with concern.
"Governor Zhabok, you're wounded. How is your body?
"The Imperium cannot afford to lose a loyal subject like you."
If there was a chance to secure a Phaeron's loyalty, no posture was excessive.
That was the equivalent of gaining a primarch who came bundled with a massive fleet and legions—perhaps someone of even higher station within the Necron hierarchy.
Not to mention the ancient technological legacy—treasures the Imperium could never obtain no matter what it paid.
In that instant, the welcoming crowd witnessed a scene of devotion and care.
What an honor—
…What?
"The Emperor—did He mistake the person? Why is He showing concern for the xenos leader?!"
Ansemor and his warriors felt their brains nearly seize.
Who am I? Where am I? Is this still the Imperium?!
He was still poised to kneel, frozen halfway, even his smile locked in place.
The joy and honor he'd expected—of being received by the Emperor—vanished in a blink.
The Chapter Master was lost.
He was more severely wounded. His armor was gone. Yet the Emperor had not even noticed him—and had bestowed that honor upon the xenos "ally" leader instead.
Maybe His Majesty simply hadn't seen him?
That was the excuse he forced upon his own thoughts.
Zhabok's reaction was even more intense.
Faced with the Emperor's regard and concern, his guilt and shame reached an unbearable pitch—especially when he remembered how the letter had praised Fanes.
He could not imagine how to repay this grace. His loyalty and worship only deepened.
"I… we… bzzt—were invaded by xenos and heretics.
"We destroyed those loathsome invaders, but the planet has inevitably been damaged.
"You may not see the Fanes described in our letter anymore…"
Zhabok's electronic voice was thick with apology—almost a sob.
He spoke truthfully about what had happened to Fanes, without the slightest concealment.
But once he finished, the Necrodermis Governor lowered his head, not daring to face the Emperor.
Not only him. The dynasty nobles and court aristocrats bowed their heads in shame as well.
The Emperor had come across unimaginable distances to witness Fanes's prosperity and stability.
Then to proclaim it to the whole Imperium.
Instead, after writing lofty praises in their letters to Holy Terra, all they could show that presence was a world in ruins.
The subjects of Fanes could not bear to imagine what wrath and condemnation awaited them.
Yet, to their astonishment, the rage they expected did not arrive.
The Emperor showed no sign of anger at all.
"You have all done your duty," Eden said softly, and sighed.
His gaze swept the crowd. In the silence, he turned and walked to the platform's edge, looking out over the distant hive—broken, smoke still hanging in the air.
"We failed to protect Fanes. We betrayed your trust. This is blasphemy, a sin that cannot be forgiven!"
Zhabok stared at the Emperor's back, then dropped to his knees.
He would rather accept punishment.
With the Necrodermis Governor's kneel, the dynasty nobles and court officials fell to their knees as well.
Some even broke into loud, helpless sobbing. The mood sank lower still.
Eden turned, brows drawn together, looking across the black mass of the kneeling crowd—until his eyes settled on Zhabok.
His tone remained gentle, yet carried weight.
"I am not condemning you.
"I am lamenting that the Imperium did not arrive in time—so that the people of Fanes were forced to fight alone in the Age of Darkness."
You fought in faith and drove back every enemy of the Imperium.
"Zhabok, your world still stands. That is the highest commendation you could receive today."
Eden looked out over them. His voice hardened.
"Rise, Zhabok. End your crying and your self-reproach.
"I declare you all without guilt.
"Fanes is already a rare world among the shadowed stars. You protected it well. You remain honorable.
"In truth, you should rejoice. From this day forward, Fanes will return to the Imperium's embrace and walk into the light again.
"All suffering will be swept away. That is my promise to you, as the Emperor of the Imperium.
"Will you accept this?"
"As you will it, Your Majesty," Zhabok vowed without hesitation. "Fanes will return. All subjects will follow your will, and we will continue to fight for the Imperium!"
From that moment on, Fanes belonged to the Emperor with unwavering devotion—so did the Kalozasa Dynasty.
That presence's mercy and trust carved loyalty into their hearts.
Eden helped the Necrodermis Governor to his feet, his smile warm.
"Perhaps we should hold a grand celebration to commemorate Fanes's return—so every subject may share in this honor."
When he announced that Fanes was without guilt, and proclaimed the celebration, the crowd finally smiled. The shadow that had just hung over them dispersed like smoke.
Eden, surrounded by the faithful, proceeded on foot toward the Hive Crown Palace not far away—like a small-scale triumphal procession.
Along the way, people knelt and offered their loyalty.
Ansemor remained at the Emperor's side, steadfastly performing his duty.
But as he watched Zhabok—walking hand-in-hand with His Majesty—his heart only grew more bitter.
From beginning to end, the Emperor had not noticed him. Had not noticed the Rift Lord Chapter.
All concern and honor had been given to the "xenos."
They had been ignored.
If another Chapter faced such treatment, perhaps they would feel insulted—an aching sense of unfairness.
But for the Rift Lord Chapter, a band of penitents, the only conclusion was that they still bore guilt—and thus deserved this reception.
They felt shame. They blamed themselves.
"Maybe our penitent Chapter isn't worthy of any attention. Maybe the Imperium still despises us…"
That was what Ansemor thought.
And not only him. Every warrior of the Rift Lord Chapter felt their spirits darken.
They believed they had still not atoned. They still carried sin. That was why the Emperor had ignored them—why that presence loathed them.
They could barely lift their heads.
Then, in Ansemor's haze, he heard a voice—calling him.
He looked up.
Sometime in the last moments, the Emperor had halted. That presence was looking directly at him, and everyone else had stopped as well.
"Ansemor."
Just now, Eden remembered something. He turned and called to the Chapter Master.
"The Rift Lord Chapter's loyalty has been proven. I have removed you from the Ecclesiarchy's penitent rolls.
"You are free. You will serve the Imperium with your name cleansed."
He raised a hand and patted Ansemor's shoulder.
"Perhaps you should go to Holy Terra and see it with your own eyes—enter the palace's Throne Hall and pay homage.
"The Custodians have my permission. They will let you in."
It was a rare honor—one granted only to the most loyal.
And after Horus's rebellion, the Astartes had been ostracized by the Custodians, making entry into the palace all but impossible.
Now the Rift Lord Chapter had been granted this extraordinary privilege, and eyes turned toward them with open envy.
When Eden finished, he thumped Ansemor twice more—hard—by way of encouragement, then continued walking on, as if he had done something trivial.
He would not fail any loyal soul.
The Chapter Master stood frozen for several breaths before he finally returned to himself.
"Emperor… we've finally paid our sins, and even gained the chance to make pilgrimage. What glory…"
Ansemor trembled head to toe, his face burning with excitement. He followed after the Emperor with even deeper reverence.
His steps felt like they barely touched the ground.
At that point, Eden sank into thought, weighing his next actions.
His purpose in coming to Fanes was already more than half fulfilled. Next came the investigation—and extraction—of the Crownless Phaeron's immense tomb-world legacy.
After the celebration, Fanes would face a thorough excavation.
Then Eden would organize forces for the final encirclement and purge of Vigilance World.
Once the Vigilance World campaign ended in decisive victory and the blackstone deposits were secured, the last piece needed to restrain the warp would finally be in his hands.
"Then the Imperium's counteroffensive begins," Eden thought coldly. "It'll be Chaos's turn to feel invasion and terror."
Now it depended on Tarko's arrangements—making sure the Kalozasa Dynasty and the subjects of Fanes stayed stable.
Because excavating a Phaeron's tomb-world was, in effect, little different from destroying the planet's surface.
Which meant that after the victory celebration, the Kalozasa Dynasty and the people of Fanes would lose their home.
No matter how loyal they were, resistance would be inevitable.
If the people refused to leave, forced relocation would become another headache.
But no matter what, the Imperium would claim that inheritance.
At that moment, Eden received a message from the Dreamweaver.
The excavation plan was complete, and could be executed at any time…
(End of Chapter)
[Get +30 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Zaelum"]
[Every 300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]