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(A/N: Chapter 120 will soon be on Patreon!)
(Sorry about the late update, Nurgle decided to bless me again, meaning I'm sick again, otherwise I would have updated two days ago but I'm been either on my bed or on the toilet lately.)
- Terra -
Malcador listened in silence as the Emperor recounted everything that had transpired during his astral projection.
Suffice it to say, the Sigillite's expression became increasingly complicated the more he heard.
Nor was he the only one.
Even Valdor—the only other person present in the chamber—found himself experiencing a mixture of emotions that were exceedingly rare for him.
A completely unknown cosmic entity, one resembling the legendary immortal bird of ancient Terra, had appeared in a distant region of the Warp.
An entity whose mere presence and power had shaken the tides of the Warp itself, sending psychic shockwaves rippling not only throughout the Immaterium, but across the galaxy and beyond.
An entity that had proceeded to assault the Dark Gods without mercy or hesitation, inflicting such damage upon them and their realms that they'd been forced to sever portions of their own realms and retreat deeper within the Warp.
The very same cosmic entity had then proceeded to quite literally manhandle his liege and oldest friend despite the Emperor's own immense psychic power.
Afterward, she would then proceed to examine the entirety of the Emperor's mind with an even greater ease than a master psyker reading the thoughts of a child.
And only by her own whim had he'd been permitted to leave.
But even that wasn't the most startling revelation.
Despite being utterly overwhelmed by the Phoenix, the Emperor had still managed to sense the presence of one of the Primarchs within her.
Specifically...
The Second Primarch.
Valdor's grip tightened around his guardian spear.
For perhaps one of the few times in his existence, he found himself conflicted.
What he had just heard challenged not only his unwavering loyalty but also his deeply held belief in his master's unmatched strength and wisdom.
Malcador, meanwhile, quietly gathered his thoughts before lowering himself into a nearby chair with a weary sigh.
"...This changes things."
"But we need to determine exactly how much. Especially regarding ourselves... and humanity as a whole."
"Indeed." The Emperor nodded. "It necessitates change."
"But, at the very least, we know that both the entity and my Second Son regard Chaos as an enemy, if their assault upon the Dark Gods is anything to judge by."
The fact that you, of all people, are resorting to optimism...
Malcador knew his oldest friend better than anyone.
Even better than Valdor.
The Emperor was, above all else, a pragmatist.
Before the Age of Strife, he had preferred to remain hidden, quietly guiding humanity through peaceful means whenever possible.
The horrors of the current age, however, had forced him to adopt a far more hard handed approach.
Gentler methods simply no longer sufficed for most scenarios.
As a result, the Emperor now viewed nearly every problem through the lens of cold objectivity and ruthless pragmatism.
The fact that, when confronted by such an overwhelming unknown, he had chosen to focus on the single optimistic aspect of the situation was more than enough to reveal just how deeply the encounter had shaken him.
Not that Malcador blamed him.
He had only linked minds with the Emperor briefly to witness what had occurred.
Merely seeing the memory of that colossal flaming avian had shaken him to his very core, forcing him to immediately sever the connection.
For the Emperor—a man who had spent tens of thousands of years shepherding humanity from its infancy toward a golden age while possessing unparalleled knowledge, wisdom, and power—it was exceedingly rare for him to find himself genuinely out of his depth.
This was, after all, the same man who had bargained with the Chaos Gods themselves... and successfully deceived them.
Even when faced with an opponent stronger than himself, the Emperor almost always had a plan.
Yet his encounter with the Phoenix had done something remarkably rare.
It had shaken his confidence.
Perhaps for the first time in countless millennia, he had experienced what ordinary mortals felt when confronted by a true cosmic power.
Oddly enough...
Malcador couldn't help but think that this might ultimately prove to be a blessing in disguise.
He cared deeply for his oldest friend.
His loyalty to the Emperor was absolute.
Yet that didn't stop him from believing that his friend needed to be brought down a peg to humble him, if only a little.
"We can discuss all of this in greater detail later."
"But tell me..."
"Do you intend to travel to the Second Primarch's location?"
Although the Astronomican remained unfinished and unlit, the Emperor himself could still guide an entire fleet safely through the Warp through the sheer force of his psychic power alone.
"I can't."
Malcador blinked.
"What? Why!?"
The Emperor wore an unusually irritated expression as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Before she released me..."
"I believe she erased the precise coordinates of the Second Primarch's homeworld from my memory."
"So..." Malcador sighed understanding dawning on him. "It's a dead end?"
"Not necessarily."
"The entity's arrival appears to have served another purpose as well."
"Look into the Warp. You'll understand."
Surprised, Malcador nevertheless complied.
Closing his eyes, he projected his consciousness into the Warp.
His astral form manifested amidst the raging tides of the Immaterium.
The endless sea of psychic energy and soulstuff held little danger for someone who had navigated it for so many millennia.
This was simply the nature of the Warp.
A vast metaphysical ocean formed from psychic energy and soulstuff, endlessly shaped by the thoughts, emotions, and souls of every sentient being in the galaxy.
Then he saw it.
Far off in the distance...
A distant yet unmistakable beacon shone within the Warp, illuminating the surrounding region with an unfamiliar light.
Remembering what had happened to the Emperor, Malcador wisely refrained from venturing any closer.
He conducted only the briefest of observations before immediately returning to his physical body.
For one...
Whatever was emitting that mysterious light was not the Phoenix.
He had already witnessed the overwhelming presence she exerted upon the Warp through the Emperor's memories.
This was something else entirely.
Different...
Yet no less extraordinary.
Most importantly, it strongly suggested that the Second Primarch's homeworld lay somewhere within the galactic east, in the general direction of that beacon.
Secondly...
The strange light appeared to be affecting the surrounding region of the Warp in some manner.
Unfortunately, he couldn't determine exactly how.
Neither time nor caution permitted a more thorough investigation.
Still...
Any information was better than none.
Malcador returned to his body and turned toward the Emperor, while Constantine Valdor stood silently to the side like a statue, waiting until called upon.
"What are your orders?"
Now fully composed, the Emperor took only a moment to think before answering.
"Nothing."
"Even with a general direction, the location is still significantly distant from Terra, and we possess far too little information."
"Furthermore, we are in the midst of several critical preparations."
"The Great Crusade draws ever closer."
"The Astronomican must be completed as quickly as possible so that our fleets may safely navigate beyond the Sol System."
"The Sol System itself still needs to be fully consolidated."
"The Legions require additional time to complete sufficient formation and numbers, alongside countless other logistical preparations that must be finished before the Crusade can begin."
"I shall personally monitor that region of space through the Warp."
"Unless another major anomaly occurs, our focus will remain on our own endeavors."
"So we're simply going to ignore the Second Primarch?" Malcador frowned.
The Emperor shook his head.
He understood his old friend's concern.
Before this, locating his Second Son had been one of their highest priorities—even among the missing Primarchs.
If the Grey Wardens were any indication, then the Second Primarch himself was undoubtedly an extraordinary individual.
Having such a person stand alongside them would only be beneficial for mankind.
"No."
"We now know the general region of space where he resides."
"And something tells me that, once the Great Crusade begins..."
"...we shall meet soon enough."
"In the meantime, we can use this opportunity to prepare."
"We must consider how best to gain his trust and convince him to stand with us."
"I do not know how he came into contact with such an entity."
"But I do know that he has encountered Chaos..."
"...and, like us, regards it as an enemy."
"Considering everything we now know..."
"...even if we must make concessions or negotiate an entirely new agreement..."
"...it would be in humanity's best interest to have him as an ally."
Malcador nodded.
He found himself in complete agreement with that course of action.
"Oh."
"Before I forget..."
"While you were investigating the Warp, Valdor arrived with news regarding the Grey Wardens."
The Emperor immediately turned toward his Captain-General.
The Second Legion, despite being the smallest of all the Legions, had repeatedly proven its worth both on and off the battlefield.
Its members possessed talents and expertise that no other Legion could replicate.
For example, Solomon had developed an actual training program for both Astartes and baseline human psykers.
For the first time, newly awakened psykers could learn the fundamentals of controlling their volatile powers without immediately risking possession—or becoming temporary Warp breaches.
He had also trained many alongside his brothers and sisters from the Fourth Host, allowing them to serve as instructors for future generations of psykers.
Raphael and the Third Host had similarly revolutionized Imperial medicine.
They had dramatically expanded both the number and quality of Apothecaries and medical personnel while discovering cures for dozens of diseases and refining countless surgical techniques.
By even the most conservative estimates...
Their efforts had already saved hundreds of millions of human lives.
It was no exaggeration to say that the Emperor held the Grey Wardens in exceptionally high regard.
He actively sought every viable candidate capable of joining their ranks.
So valuable had they become that he had personally ordered any matter concerning the Second Legion—or any request made by its members—to be brought directly to either himself or Malcador without delay.
Valdor stood at attention before delivering the report.
"They are now fireproof."
Silence descended upon the chamber.
Malcador stared blankly at Valdor.
The Emperor merely raised a single eyebrow.
Of all the possibilities they had considered...
This was certainly not one of them.
"...How?"
Malcador perfectly voiced the question on both their minds.
"I do not know, Lord Sigillite."
"Ra informed me that the recent event affected every Grey Warden."
"They were all assaulted by a series of visions."
"They are currently undergoing examinations to determine whether any permanent changes occurred."
"So far, the only confirmed effect is complete immunity to fire."
"They discovered it... accidentally."
"...I don't know why, but I have the distinct feeling I'm going to regret asking this. How, exactly, did they accidentally discover they were fireproof?" Malcador hesitantly asked.
The fact that a visibly conflicted expression crossed the normally stoic Captain-General did absolutely nothing to reassure him.
Valdor remained silent for several seconds as he considered the best way to explain.
Eventually, he decided that one word was sufficient.
"Minerva."
"STOP!"
Malcador immediately buried his face in one hand.
"You've already said more than enough, Valdor."
The Emperor's lips twitched upward ever so slightly.
Apparently, some things truly were universal.
Even cosmic phenomena couldn't stop the chaos that inevitably followed whenever the chaotic-good gremlin known as Minerva—the Warden Commander of the Second Host—was involved.
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- Azeroth -
With the conclusion of the Battle of Silvermoon, the war had finally come to an end.
The Alliance had successfully driven back the invading forces and secured the capital of Quel'Thalas before the remnants of Chaos were annihilated by the psychic shockwave released by Alastor in his Phoenix form.
Aside from Malak, every remaining commander of the Chaos forces had been slain during the war.
Some fell to brave soldiers.
Others perished at the hands of the Alliance's greatest heroes.
The last among them, Ramsey, had been hunted down and personally destroyed by Aegwynn during the final battle for Silvermoon.
Now that the fighting had ceased, Supreme Commander Alastor Wrynn issued the necessary orders to begin the enormous task of rebuilding.
The psychic shockwaves unleashed during his transformation had produced effects far beyond simply ending the battle.
Every remaining daemon still manifesting on Azeroth had been destroyed.
Every trace of fel corruption lingering across the world had been purified.
Every Beastkin—creatures born through the power of Chaos—had perished.
Only the orks remained.
According to General Loretta's latest report—much to her continued annoyance at Alastor for her "promotion"—the death of Grimgor and the destruction of most of the Black Orks in Stormwind had shattered the orkish war effort.
The surviving klans had splintered into numerous smaller, disorganized warbands.
This dramatically reduced the pressure on the defenders of Fort Clover.
With the war finally over, the remaining orks had retreated deep into the Savage Lands.
Overall...
It was excellent news.
The Church, the druids, and the red dragonflight could now dedicate themselves almost entirely to restoring the lands that were once corrupted during the incursion, assisted by specialists from the Science Guild.
Once the necessary orders had been issued, the Alliance leadership departed for the Kingdom of Kul Tiras.
More specifically...
Its capital city.
Boralus.
Interestingly, Kul Tiras was one of the few kingdoms whose capital did not share the kingdom's name, much like Quel'Thalas and its capital, Silvermoon.
The great island city served as both the seat of House Proudmoore and the political heart of the maritime kingdom.
Daelin Proudmoore had personally invited the Alliance leaders and heroes to Boralus.
There were many matters requiring discussion in the aftermath of the war.
But above them all stood one issue of paramount importance.
The trial of Malak.
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