"Good thing I prepared in advance. Otherwise, there really wouldn't have been any way to execute the evacuation plan early."
Eden felt genuinely relieved.
Under normal circumstances, evacuating hundreds of billions of people from Fanes was an almost impossible task.
By the old Imperium's evacuation model, at best you'd extract a fraction of the hive's able-bodied labor force.
As for the rest? They'd be left to fend for themselves. Imperial transport capacity was worth more than the lives of underhivers.
But the New Imperium couldn't do that. It couldn't sit back coldly and watch lives bleed away. That would betray Eden's own principles and promises—and undermine the very foundation of his rule.
If capability allowed, the logistics corps had to evacuate every living soul on Fanes, along with vital assets.
"During the Third Tyrannic War, the logistics corps organized the evacuation of the entire Orpheus System.
"This time the schedule's tighter, but it's only one planet—and we even have the Kalozasa Dynasty assisting. There shouldn't be any problems."
Eden wasn't worried about the logistics corps' capacity.
All he needed to do was announce the decision and have the people of Fanes obey the order.
After weeks of emotional fermentation, there would be almost no resistance.
As long as the majority agreed, that was enough. The small remainder could be forcibly removed.
Eden lifted his gaze.
Zhabok and the others who had come to pay audience had already arrived, waiting respectfully.
He looked down at the assembled elites and let a thread of pressure leak from his presence.
"Fanes has been unsettled lately. Everyone seems to be worried about this planet's future…"
Eden spoke abruptly, his voice carrying clearly through the palace hall.
At those words, the crowd lowered their heads instinctively—shocked that such blasphemous rumors had already reached the Emperor's ears.
In truth, the rumors were something he had ordered spread.
As long as the pressure was high enough, when he later presented an option that was less crushing than the imagined catastrophe, resistance would drop sharply.
People would even feel lucky and offer concessions proactively.
It was one of the standard tools of rulers—effective every time.
"You're wondering why the fleet in the sky has come, and what it intends to do to Fanes.
"You may have guessed. Or you may not have."
Eden raised his hand and pointed lightly.
"I can give you the answer. Those are heavy transports dedicated to population movement.
"The cargo is the people of Fanes. All of them.
"No matter what, this is an established fact—this planet's unalterable fate."
"Emperor preserve us…"
The moment they heard those words, Zhabok and the other high-ranking figures froze in place. Shock and dread flashed in their eyes.
To Fanes, it was a cruel, iron-edged command.
They couldn't understand why the Imperium would drive the people of Fanes out of their home.
Was this the price of deceiving the Emperor?
Had they committed blasphemy—so grave that they were to be exiled as penance, unworthy to remain on this world?
Perhaps the people of Fanes would be shipped to savage frontier worlds to break ground.
Or thrown into perilous warzones to build defenses and fight—earning redemption through blood.
It was a natural assumption.
The Imperium did this sort of expulsion and forced migration all the time.
Even Astartes Chapters—assets of obscene value—could be collectively hurled into the Eye of Terror.
Let alone the people of Fanes.
"Your Majesty, we—"
Zhabok lifted his head, wanting to plead, to explain, to beg for forgiveness.
But he stopped mid-syllable.
He couldn't continue.
It was a habit forged over these days—he'd grown used to obedience, and he no longer had the courage to argue.
Zhabok fell silent, not knowing what to do, his living-metal frame bowing even lower.
This Necron Phaeron—shaped by the influence of a "human" identity—had offered loyalty, and he didn't dare challenge the Savior-Emperor.
Especially when he realized Eden was walking down toward him.
As for the other dynasty nobles, they had even less right to speak.
"This is an Imperial decision," Eden said, rising from the throne and descending the steps.
"I am not blaming you.
"Rather—it is Fanes' loyalty and steadfast faith that has drawn the God-Emperor's protection.
"You are about to receive a mission you cannot refuse.
"You must fulfill it."
His stern tone made the hall's air feel colder still.
No one spoke.
A heavy gloom settled.
Eden swept his eyes across them.
"You needn't fear. For loyal citizens of Fanes, this is also a rare blessing.
"This is a good thing."
He stopped before the Necrodermis Governor and asked:
"Governor Zhabok—do you wish to go to Holy Terra, to behold that sanctity?"
…What?
Zhabok blinked, stunned.
Weren't they discussing driving the people of Fanes out of their homes?
Why were they suddenly talking about Holy Terra?
Then, the next moment, his spirit ignited. The eerie green flames in his eye-sockets leapt.
He could go to Holy Terra—the heart of the Imperium, the sacred seat of the Holy God-Emperor?
Zhabok could barely believe it. His voice rose without meaning to.
"Your Majesty… you… you would grant me the chance to pilgrimage to Terra?"
The entire hall's attention snapped toward him.
Ansemor was stunned to the point of numbness.
"This being… is going to invite a Necron 'ally leader' to Holy Terra?"
He knew the Emperor's style was unconventional, but this was… too radical.
The Chapter Master hesitated, yet didn't dare form thoughts like "blasphemy" or "excess" even in his own mind.
After all, this Emperor had pardoned penitent Chapters like the Rift Lord Chapter, granting them the chance to pilgrimage to Holy Terra—
And even arranging their entry into the most sacred of Imperial places: the Throne Hall itself, to behold the Golden Throne and stand before the highest sanctity.
If he called the Emperor's decision "blasphemy," wouldn't that imply the Rift Lord Chapter wasn't worthy either?
How could that be allowed?
Conflict of interest made Ansemor keep his mouth shut. He trusted that the Emperor had appropriate arrangements.
Besides, he was only a Chapter Master. He had no right to question.
The Savior was the Emperor-appointed ruler of the Imperium—the highest authority humanity possessed in the galaxy.
In fact, his status was even above the Imperium itself.
If there was betrayal or blasphemy, it would be the Imperium betraying the Savior—the Imperium rebelling against him.
That was merely the visible layer of power. In practice, Eden's power was greater still. In some circumstances, even the God-Emperor would have to accept his arrangements.
Of course, power was one thing. How much of it could be brought to bear depended on how the one holding it chose to use it.
The God-Emperor himself had once been the Master of Mankind—and still half his sons and half the Legions had stabbed him in the back.
They'd nearly thrown the old man into the warp.
Eden had learned from that lesson. He used power carefully, so the Ruinous Powers couldn't seize an opening—
So he wouldn't capsize in a gutter.
Especially at key nodes and critical events.
That was why he treated Fanes so cautiously. This place mattered—and the Kalozasa Dynasty had the capacity to betray.
No matter how you looked at it, he couldn't afford to "play around" here, such as crushing them with extreme coercion.
Unless the situation became irretrievable, he had to minimize conflict and advance steadily.
Eden looked out over the hall.
The palace was silent. Zhabok and the other Necrons stared up at him, waiting for his answer like starving men waiting for bread.
"Not only you, Zhabok.
"You—all of you.
"Every citizen of Fanes will go to Holy Terra on pilgrimage."
Eden's smile was gentle as he dropped an answer even more staggering.
A shockwave went through the hall. Minds buzzed. Emotions surged.
On some dynasty nobles, the energy fields along their living-metal frames crackled and spat under the strain of excitement.
The court officials trembled outright, hearts hammering like war-drums.
Wasn't this what they had always craved?
Eden had underestimated this planet's faith.
Though Fanes had been ruled by "xenos," it was also intensely religious, its worship of the God-Emperor carved deep. A pilgrimage to Holy Terra was their ultimate dream.
If the Great Rift hadn't blocked them, perhaps they would have already done what other shrine worlds did—pour every resource they could scrape together into building pilgrimage vessels, then set out for Holy Terra.
Now the Savior-Emperor was handing them that chance.
Inviting them personally to complete what, for believers, was the culmination of faith.
How could they refuse?
There was no need for coercion. They wanted to depart this instant.
"We accept this mission. We will go to Holy Terra."
Zhabok dropped to one knee with extreme devotion, answering for Fanes itself.
Any refusal would be blasphemy against the God-Emperor.
And under the pressure created by the earlier rumors, the Emperor's new command felt like a miracle.
In the palace hall, all who had come to audience knelt in gratitude.
It was an unimaginable boon.
With Eden's maneuvering, what had been a forced "demolition evacuation" became a "good thing."
And they would thank him for it.
Then, while the atmosphere burned hot, he issued the next command:
Excavate the tomb-world complex.
Activate the tomb fleet.
The Kalozasa Dynasty would sail with the combined Imperial fleet to Vigilance World, to purge the heretics and xenos entrenched in that system.
They could not immediately depart on pilgrimage like Fanes' ordinary humans.
They would go after the campaign—under the Savior's guidance—to Holy Terra.
Naturally, there was no resistance.
They wanted nothing more than to finish the war quickly and fulfill their sacred duty as believers.
Soon, the news spread:
Fanes had received the Emperor's blessing.
Fanes would pilgrimage to Holy Terra.
It propagated at maximum speed, reaching every hive.
Countless Canoptek Spyders stirred into motion, carrying the message into every corner and assisting the evacuation that followed.
Even into the underhive.
They didn't want a single life to miss this chance.
As the news rolled outward, roaring waves of cries rose higher and higher, as if the entire planet were cheering.
Even in the palace garden at the hive crown, Eden could feel that joy and fanatic devotion with absolute clarity.
This was exactly the effect he wanted.
If he had presented the plan from the beginning, most believers would still have agreed—
But a portion would have clung to their homeland.
However, after people endured the pressure of believing the Imperium might destroy the planet, expel the Fanes population, or ship everyone away as the "Eleventh Tithe" to the front—
Then, when he revealed the pilgrimage instead, they would support him with total abandon, praising him without reservation.
It was only a change in timing and messaging.
It cost almost no extra effort.
So why not?
"What a blessing. What a beautiful fate. The people of Fanes were born in a good era…"
In the garden, Tarko finished reporting the latest situation and couldn't help sighing.
"They earned it," Eden said, taking a sip of red wine, neither denying nor overstating.
Even setting aside Fanes' loyalty, the sheer wealth under this world's crust was enough.
They deserved compensation.
And in any case, Eden's position was pure profit.
…
In a hive residential district.
"God-Emperor above—please bless the great and merciful Emperor of the Imperium…"
The area had become an ocean of celebration. Devout believers prayed for the Emperor in return for his gift.
Outside the atmosphere, black landing craft descended like slabs of storm-cloud.
They would carry away every human on this planet, along with valuable organisms and property.
The mission of the Fanes people was simple:
All of them would go to Holy Terra on pilgrimage.
The Imperium would provide round-trip transport, accommodations, sustenance—everything.
For a logistics corps with a vast transport fleet, it was not difficult.
More than that, the New Imperium had spent the past century perfecting pilgrimage routes, involving multiple Webway corridors.
Pilgrims could travel better, along a chain of shrine-worlds toward Holy Terra.
The people of Fanes had to follow those pilgrimage routes, spreading the faith of Fanes, its spirit of taxation and duty, and stories of its loyalty to the Savior-Emperor.
The galaxy would learn why they had been granted this boon.
Any who resisted the mission would be judged as committing blasphemy against the sacred.
But no one would resist.
The people of Fanes would become among the most fortunate populations in the Imperium.
Every resource required for the pilgrimage would be provided by the Imperium.
Food, clothing, shelter, passage—anything they might need.
Their fate would look something like this:
Say you are a young person of Fanes, a factory worker in the hive, grinding day after day.
You work to meet the holy tithe, and for your family.
Then one day, the Emperor arrives—and orders that all Fanes citizens must leave their home to pilgrimage to Holy Terra.
From that moment on, you realize you no longer have to labor.
Yes. No labor at all.
You are now a sacred pilgrim.
And unlike other pilgrims, you won't have to take dangerous jobs in port-side slums on the route in exchange for rations.
From then on, your life becomes a grand voyage.
You sleep in clean cabins, under warm blankets, with meals served on time.
The ship-chapels will arrange prayers and calming rites.
In the church squares aboard ship, you can even see small green gardens.
The only thing you have to do is travel with the pilgrimage fleet across the galaxy's routes—
Arrive at one strange and beautiful shrine-world after another—
Disembark, and worship.
You will behold both wonder and sanctity.
You will be received locally, taste regional foods, and sometimes young women on those worlds will look at you with envy.
Your pilgrimage might last decades, or centuries.
World after world.
You build a family aboard ship, together witnessing countless sights and vast grandeur—
Until you finally reach Holy Terra and behold the highest sanctity.
And perhaps, when you are old and frail, you might even return to the homeland you remember—
Fanes.
By then, new hive-cities will have been built, just as the Emperor promised.
That being never betrays what people give.
In short, a single order from Eden set the people of Fanes drifting across the galaxy—
And drifting long enough for the Mechanicus to excavate and study every ancient tomb complex in safety, then transport it all away.
That plan wasn't even the urgent part.
The immediate priority was to move everyone off-world and activate that vast tomb fleet.
The coming war needed it.
While the evacuation ran at full throttle, Eden was in excellent spirits, reviewing his spoils.
It was the richest single haul he'd gained in the past century.
Especially the ancient super-cannon: the Æonic Orb.
And deeper underground, there were even more priceless prizes—
Nearly the entirety of the Kalozasa Dynasty's technological legacy.
He might even find their Biotransference technology.
In Eden's eyes, that was machine-ascension itself.
He needed it to study the relationship between body and soul.
He might even discover a method to restore the "souls" of Necron beings.
If he mastered that technology, he could, in practical terms, take most Necrons by the throat.
"Time's still a little tight…"
Eden glanced over the files.
Even the tomb fleet excavation alone would take several weeks.
That was already the fastest possible pace.
Fortunately, the Imperial vanguard had already cleared the route and rushed ahead to Vigilance World to stabilize the situation—
So the front wouldn't collapse further.
And Eden would follow with the tomb fleet.
All fleets would assemble in that region and seize final victory in the grand clusterf—k.
—
Several weeks later.
High orbit above Fanes.
Eden stood before Dreamweaver's observation dome, waiting.
Then, suddenly, Fanes' landmasses began to change.
The planet shuddered.
Hive-cities and mountains collapsed, throwing up dust that blotted out the entire atmosphere.
Within that dust, a faint eerie green gleam pulsed—
And a colossal mass rose, slowly, inexorably.
(End of Chapter)
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