Inside the bridge of the genesis, there was a solemn sense of novelty.
There was no cold steel here, no exposed conduits, and certainly none of the acrid smell of oil and incense that usually accompanied Servitors.
Inside the gleaming white hull, a soft, moonlight-like radiance flowed.
The air was filled with a faint, fresh fragrance, reminiscent of grass after the rain. The hum of the engines was low and steady; rather than a mechanical roar, it was more like a peaceful, sleep-inducing lullaby.
Saul Taviz, the loyal Captain of the Emperor's Children, stood there, feeling somewhat uneasy.
The moment he stepped onto the bridge, an invisible force had gently cleansed all the blood and dust from his power armor. Yet, he still felt out of place in this holy environment.
He had seen too much grandeur and witnessed too many miracles.
But no ship, like the genesis, could make his heart—hardened by war and betrayal—feel such a long-lost... peace, just by existing.
Beside him, the Death Guard Commander, Nathaniel Garro, his face usually as unchanging as a slab of stone, showed a subtle loosening of expression. He instinctively removed his helmet and took a deep breath of the pure air.
Rauth Solaart, the battle-hardened fleet Commander, surveyed every impeccable, harmoniously beautiful streamlined design on the bridge with a complex mix of professional scrutiny and personal shock.
This ship was, in itself, a work of art.
A living work of art, one that possessed a soul.
And the gazes of all who beheld this art eventually converged on the same point.
At the very front of the bridge, before that massive floor-to-ceiling window that seemed capable of embracing the entire sea of stars.
Stood that calm, black-haired figure.
Fogremia, the Perfect Sword Princess who had just been reborn from the fallen phoenix, stood faithfully behind Leticia, never leaving her side.
She did not look at the vessel belonging to the deity who had created her.
Nor did she look at those who were her former and current colleagues.
In her brilliant violet eyes, there was only Leticia's back.
It was as if that back was her entire universe, the sole meaning of her existence.
Her posture was like that of the most perfect guardian knight statue: holy, devout, and deadly.
Leticia calmed the emotions of everyone present. She spoke calmly, instructing Saul Taviz to be temporarily responsible for the placement of all the warriors.
This simple order made Taviz feel an unprecedented, heavy weight of trust.
He immediately accepted the order and took Garro and Solaart to execute the first directive issued by the Goddess.
The bridge fell silent.
Leticia walked to Terrania's side.
This blonde girl was standing on tiptoe, curiously watching the massive, real-time changing star map. Countless points of starlight flowed and flickered within her pure golden eyes.
She seemed to have an innate understanding and curiosity about this dark universe that transcended that of ordinary people.
Leticia did not disturb her, simply standing quietly by her side.
And it was at this very moment.
On the other side of the galaxy, far away and unknown to them.
The massive ripple, born from the genesis breaking free from the historical slice and mixed with supreme divinity and the soul of a newborn Primarch, was sweeping across the entire universe at a speed faster than light.
...
The Eye of Terror.
That eternal land of curses where reality and the Subspace intersected.
A magnificent palace, constructed from countless twisted, living flesh and souls, echoing day and night with extreme pleasure and endless pain, trembled violently without warning.
Inside the palace, countless Slaanesh daemons, intoxicated by the sensory feast—whether they were low-level daemonettes or powerful Keepers of Secrets—let out shrill, confused screams at the exact same moment.
A pure, harmonious "pleasure," filled with the beauty of creation and protection, washed over their souls—which were already filled with distortion and depravity—like the most scorching holy light.
To them, this was not enjoyment.
It was the most extreme torture.
It was the most thorough negation of their very existence.
The pleasure they believed in, gained through sadism and debauchery, appeared so crude, so dirty, and so... ridiculous in the face of this higher-dimensional power of "Divine Charm" derived from "love" and "protection."
Chaos spread wildly throughout the realm of Slaanesh.
Upon the throne of the palace.
That androgynous Chaos God, known to mortals as the "lord of pleasure" and the "Dark Prince," suddenly opened His eyes from that endless, self-indulgent slumber.
Within those eyes that could see through all desires, for the first time, flashed an emotion He had never experienced before.
Extreme...
Confusion, and the rage of being offended.
It was as if a supreme artist, who prided themselves on being the source of beauty, discovered that in some corner of the universe, another existence had perfectly "plagiarized" and sublimated His authority in a way He had never imagined—a way that was diametrically opposed.
That was not imitation.
That was re-creation.
It was a challenge to, and an... overriding of, His divine portfolio at the root.
"Who..."
An intent filled with greed and rage swept across the entire Subspace.
"Who... stole my 'perfection'?"
...
Meanwhile.
Holy Terra.
The seat of power for the Human Empire, deep within the magnificent Imperial Palace standing atop the Himalayas.
Inside the silent, gold-cast sanctuary.
Upon the Golden Throne, the withered, ten-thousand-year-old remains of the Emperor, connected to countless conduits and arcane machinery, seemed to tremble slightly, without warning, beneath the thick layer of golden dust that covered Him.
The ripple that had swept across the galaxy reached here.
It was not blocked by Terra's impenetrable Geller field and psychic defense arrays.
Because a part of its essence shared the same origin as the heart of this holy land.
That warm, pure soul fluctuation belonging to Terrania, filled with the will to protect, was like a child far from home, finally sending back the first letter to say they were safe.
And the letter also mentioned a new, powerful... guardian who made her feel incredibly at ease.
A barely audible sigh, mixed with ten thousand years of fatigue, a trace of relief, and a deeper level of confusion, flickered and vanished in the minds of the most powerful Custodian Guard warriors guarding the place, like a grain of sand cast into the deep sea.
It was so fast that they thought it was just an illusion.
Yet the extremely weak fluctuation of will—belonging to their Liege Father—that had flashed across their souls was so real that it made their adamantine hearts tremble.
They knelt on one knee, simultaneously.
And brought their Guardian Spears down heavily onto the ground.
"My Liege..."
They did not know what had happened.
They only knew that something had changed.
Something had lit up a new, unprecedented point in that endless darkness, something they could not yet understand...
Light.
...
Inside the bridge of the genesis.
Leticia did not know that her "newbie village" journey had already cast two heavy pieces onto the chessboard of the entire galaxy, pieces capable of changing the entire game.
She had just closed her system panel.
The quest rewards were unimaginably generous.
Not only had she accumulated enough "Warband Points" to open several historical instances.
More importantly, on the system panel, a large number of "historical nodes" that had previously been greyed out—representing tragic heroes—had been lit up.
Fogremia's birth was like a key, unlocking more destinies related to her brothers that could be corrected.
Just as Leticia was lost in thought.
A soft, slightly uncertain voice sounded beside her.
"Where... should we go?"
Terrania looked up at Leticia's profile. Her golden eyes reflected the brilliant galaxy outside the window, as well as a trace of confusion about the future.
The question was light.
Yet it was also heavy.
Like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, it instantly sent ripples through the bridge.
Saul Taviz and the others, who had just walked in, paused.
They also looked at Leticia.
Indeed.
They had escaped that hell, destined for destruction, filled with betrayal and death.
They had followed a deity onto a dreamlike ark.
But what then?
Where did the future lie?
They were Emperor's Children, Death Guard, World Eaters... They were the Emperor's warriors, but now, they followed a Goddess they could not understand.
They were former rebels, loyalist remnants.
Could they still return to the Imperium for which they had once fought and bled?
Or would they become a group of... wandering souls, drifting forever in this dark sea of stars?
Leticia did not answer immediately.
She turned around, looking at these souls before her who had just pledged their loyalty to her.
She saw the dependence and confusion in Terrania's eyes.
She saw the unwavering, fanatical adoration in Fogremia's eyes.
She saw the resolve mixed with Hope and worry in Saul Taviz's eyes.
She saw the scrutiny of a brand-new future beneath Nathaniel Garro's silent face.
She was no longer that transmigrator, alone in the cold universe, fighting only to protect one girl.
She now had a... "home."
A nascent home that needed her to guide its direction, a home that needed her to hold up the sky.
"We will create a home where everyone can live in peace."
Leticia's voice was calm and clear.
She reached out and gently stroked Terrania's long golden hair.
This gesture settled everyone's hearts.
She looked at the star map, her deep black eyes flashing with an unprecedented, dazzling light.
"But before that."
Her tone suddenly carried a hint of playful amusement.
"We must first go and meet another 'brother' of my new Sister."
Fogremia's ears twitched slightly.
Leticia's finger traced across the cold star map, finally pointing to a star region stained with countless wars and blood, representing endless pain and rage.
"The next target—"
"Angron's Chains."
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