The Arx Angelicum had been almost entirely leveled, leaving practically none of the few recreational venues that existed before the siege.
Following the arrival of the Indomitus Crusade, a handful of makeshift establishments—bookstores, coffee shops, and the like—were hastily set up amidst the ruins with the assistance of the Ultramarines.
Naturally, these places were packed to capacity.
Space Marines commanded the highest respect, particularly those surviving Blood Angels and their successor chapter brethren. To the mortals who had arrived with the Indomitus Crusade, these Astartes were heroes who had lived through the living hell of Baal.
Steeped in that atmosphere of quiet reverence, Yuki followed Harriman into a private booth.
"Look at you, Harriman. A genuine hero now."
"I could say the same for you, Yuki. Strictly speaking, as a high-ranking entity of the Hive Mind, you brought alien horrors to Baal, leading a swarm that slaughtered almost all of my battle-brothers. I should have drawn my weapon the moment I laid eyes on you. But I didn't—because I realized you're a transmigrator, too."
As those words hung in the air, Yuki's expression shifted slightly.
"You're a transmigrator as well?"
"At the very least, I know about the Warhammer universe and that damned Nottingham miniature company. Don't tell me you used to be a Tyranid player?"
"Ah. So you played Blood Angels? You guys certainly knew how to handle stress—true meta-defiers."
Harriman let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "I ran into a transmigrator in the Imperial Guard once, but I couldn't keep him alive. Who would've guessed someone would end up in the Tyranid swarms?"
"Nurgle and the others mentioned that a few transmigrators actually achieved Daemonhood," Yuki noted, taking a sip of coffee. "I've never met one myself, though. Come to think of it, you're the very first transmigrator I've encountered. When did you cross over?"
"A little under two hundred years ago."
"Then you're my senior."
"Though I certainly haven't done as well as you."
Harriman's expression darkened. "What's the real story here? Isn't the Hive Mind a single collective consciousness? How do you even exist within it? And what is that woman?"
Yuki remained silent, sipping his coffee while studying Harriman across the table. After a long pause, he finally spoke.
"Even if we're both transmigrators, Harriman, that doesn't mean we're on the same side."
"I know that." Harriman furrowed his brows, his mind racing. 'If Yuki holds a high position within the Hive Mind—or if he's become its core consciousness—could I convince him to abandon the idea of consuming the galaxy?' In the real world, Games Workshop kept the main Hive Fleets perpetually delayed to keep selling models, but in this reality, that plot armor was no guarantee.
"Tell me," Yuki asked, "did you pull me in here just to say this? If there's nothing else, I'm heading back."
"Your fleet is still near Baal, isn't it? What's your angle?"
"You know about Hope, right?"
"The Living Saint?"
"I came to see her one last time. After all, she was one of the few targets I tried my absolute best to kill and failed. Once this is done, I'm leaving to rendezvous with another Leviathan splinter fleet—and heading straight for Terra."
Yuki spoke without a shred of hesitation, laying out what was essentially the 10th Edition campaign lore.
Harriman knew the lore well enough, but the official narrative stopped short of what happened next. With transmigrators in the mix, no one could predict the outcome. Terra might be overrun by the swarms, or the defenders might somehow hold the line.
Worse, the combat effectiveness demonstrated by the Astraeus fleet was terrifyingly abnormal. Yuki possessed near-Primarch combat power, backed by a C'tan shard and various other high-tier humanoid sub-entities. While the God-Emperor could theoretically obliterate these threats, stepping off the Golden Throne would mean absolute doom for humanity anyway.
Furthermore, as a transmigrator, Yuki wouldn't miscalculate the Emperor's power; if he was making a move on Terra, he undoubtedly had a plan.
"Am I supposed to wish you luck?"
"Suit yourself. But if I end up stirring the God-Emperor into action, the Immaterium and the galaxy are going to become an absolute mess. It'll probably turn into a three-way final showdown between the Tyranids, the Necrons, and the Emperor. Naturally, I intend for us to come out on top."
Harriman locked eyes with Yuki, his expression dead serious. "Is there truly no chance for peaceful coexistence?"
"That is determined by the collective will of every Tyranid in existence," Yuki replied calmly. "I have no power to alter it."
The conversation had reached its natural end; there was nothing left to say. Harriman wanted to find a way to keep him here, but he knew the Tyranid synaptic link made ambushes pointless.
"I have no intention of picking a fight with Guilliman here," Yuki added, getting up. "You'd best not complicate things either."
'Transmigrating as a commoner, only to end up as a Blood Angel through sheer chance?' Yuki couldn't help but marvel at the man's sheer luck. To survive long enough to be selected for Space Marine ascension—and to successfully pass every brutal trial—was nothing short of a miracle. If he hadn't encountered Yuno on Planet Stat, he likely would have perished almost immediately, just like the failed transmigrators Chaos often mocked.
Yuno's love was his greatest pillar. Yet relying on it so completely left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Stepping out of the crowded coffee shop, Yuki emerged into the outer settlement. The Ultramarines' Honor Guard was directing the bustling crowd, urging everyone to clear a path for Lord Guilliman's impending arrival.
Yuki subtly altered his features. Though the odds were slim, there was a tiny chance an Ultramarine might recognize him from past conflicts. Still, if the opportunity presented itself, seeing Guilliman in person wasn't a terrible idea.
Blending into the crowd, Yuki watched as Guilliman's imposing figure came into view.
'So that's a Primarch.'
Gazing at the Primarch who looked like a mythical Roman general, Yuki felt a quiet wave of emotion. Humanity's empire had finally welcomed its long-awaited beacon of hope.
What would the future bring? A child, a family, war, the galaxy... The opening of the Great Rift had shattered the old order, ushering in a bizarre, unprecedented era.
Yuki sighed quietly as the crowd surged around Guilliman. Decades ago, the only version of Guilliman he had ever seen was a dying Primarch frozen inside a stasis field.
He was truly imposing. It was hard not to envy those born with such overwhelming power.
"What about me, then?"
Yuno's voice echoed softly beside him. He turned to find her standing at his elbow.
"Don't laugh—you're the same," Yuki replied, a faint, helpless smile tugging at his lips.
Yuno leaned her head gently against his back. "Tell me... is that man really humanity's final hope? The Imperium of Man is remarkably fragile, isn't it?"
"In a sense, he truly is their last pillar," Yuki murmured. "He's certainly far stronger than I am. It's hard to imagine the sheer weight resting on his shoulders right now."
Yuno looked toward Guilliman as well.
"Carrying the weight of one life is heavy. Carrying the lives of ten thousand is heavier still. And carrying the lives of billions is a burden beyond measure. Though at that scale, one usually stops feeling the weight of individual lives altogether."
She watched Guilliman's procession move slowly into the distance.
"What a tragic existence. The God-Emperor, on the other hand... actually feels every single soul under his banner. How agonizing that must be."