On the Rangdan homeworld, near the Imperial hub, a certain detached courtyard stood in stark contrast to the surrounding magnificent palaces.
It appeared somewhat small and bore a strong alien architectural style, yet it floated high above the skyscrapers, basking in the softest sunlight and the gentlest breeze. The alien structure featured a garden where automated drones trimmed branches and flowers, and murmuring fountains completed a harmonious scene.
Solas sat in the courtyard wearing a gray casual robe. He was fully absorbed, his attention focused on a piece of gray stone before him. The chisel in his hand moved with a rustling sound, carving the familiar faces and smiles from his memories.
The courtyard was filled with lifelike statues of both humans and xenos. These sculptures were pinnacles of human artistry, infused with the artisan's lifeblood and crafted with exquisite, irreplaceable technique. Only a Primarch, possessing unimaginable energy, could complete one stone statue after another, materializing memories through stone carving.
The courtyard wall slid open, and two massive heads floated inside. The automated drones bowed to them, their eyes projecting holographic Rangdan script: Welcome, Honorable Lords.
The Rangdan Overlord waved its sub-cranial tentacles, gesturing for the mechanical servants to resume their work. Choosing not to disturb Solas, it drifted into a nearby gazebo to wait.
After a long while, Solas stopped his chisel. A human woman had taken shape under his hands. The mortal woman was not beautiful—infatuation would even call her plain—but the Primarch's hands had perfectly captured her maternal radiance.
He stared at the statue for a long time, nostalgia and silent questions flickering in his eyes. Finally, he shook his head with a long sigh, rose from the sculpting table, and walked toward the gazebo.
"The Wise One, the Overlord of Peace. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
A smile appeared on Solas's face as he sat opposite the two Rangdan Overlords in a triangular arrangement. A mechanical servant brought him a cup of tea.
"You ask what you already know," the Wise One spoke human idioms with that peculiar Rangdan accent. A tentacle curled around the teacup, bringing it to the suction pores on its face.
The Wise One's crimson eyes fixed on the human before it, a deep sense of regret filling its heart. If Solas had been a child of the Rangdan, it could hardly imagine the heights the Rangdan race would have reached under his leadership.
Forty years ago, a human infant had fallen from the sky, landing within the Rangdan's central territories, where he was adopted by human slaves.
At the bottom of the Rangdan slave worlds, many individuals, for various reasons, had not consumed Rangdan brain-fluid and remained outside of mental control. A group of fringe slaves like this rarely drew the attention of the planet's rulers. After all, the local Rangdan Governor commanded all military forces and controlled every administrative institution, holding absolute authority over the world.
In the eyes of the Rangdan Governor, the lowliest slaves were worthless, beneath the dignity of control. Yet, this single oversight sowed the seeds for the planet's downfall.
According to existing records, the human infant grew rapidly, possessing intelligence and strength far exceeding ordinary men. Soon, a name began to circulate among the lower-class inhabitants: Moribas Solas.
He united the slaves who were free of brain-fluid control, established a system, rallied every force that could be rallied, and began to subvert Rangdan rule.
It had to be said that firm conviction proved more powerful than tyrannical control. The rebellion spread like wildfire, emerging across the planet, impossible to extinguish or eradicate. It crept from the outskirts to the factories, and from the depths of the hive cities upward.
The unshakable rule of the Rangdan was overthrown by waves of slaves throwing themselves into the fray. By the time the pacification fleet arrived, the slaves had destroyed the planet with nuclear warheads and were boarding starships to flee Rangdan-controlled space.
The fleet intercepted the escapees. Intrigued, the Wise One boarded the flagship to negotiate with the rebels. Ultimately, the two sides reached an understanding: Moribas Solas would work for the Rangdan in exchange for his followers' freedom.
The talent Solas displayed seemed to have no upper limit. He mapped out development paths and executed a series of institutional reforms. Paired with the Rangdan's formidable execution capabilities, the Rangdan Empire entered a period of rapid advancement.
His contributions were visible to the naked eye. The Council of Overlords fulfilled its promise, releasing Solas and his followers.
Yet, several years later, Solas returned from the sea of stars to address the Council of Overlords: A Human Imperium was rising across the galaxy. And he, a human, wanted to join forces with the Rangdan to exact vengeance upon it.
The memory flashed by in an instant. The Wise One set down its teacup, staring at the human it had personally discovered, the emotions in its eyes fleeting. Now, the Rangdan Empire and the Human Imperium were on the brink of an all-out war, yet the most talented individual was kept out of the conflict by the rift between their species.
It had come to visit alongside the Overlord of Peace out of sheer internal frustration.
"The war on the front lines is going poorly," the Overlord of Peace sighed. A powerful psychic force manifested, stirring a gentle breeze around the gazebo.
The psychic energy penetrated down to the microscopic level, stripping particles from the plants and sand to form an image on the tabletop. Under the precise control of the Overlord of Peace, the territory of the Rangdan materialized.
The Rangdan Empire was situated in the galactic east, spanning from the eastern inner rim to the outer fringes of the galaxy—a vast territory encompassing a hundred thousand worlds, trillions of native citizens, and countless slaves.
Yet this immense imperial domain now showed many discordant signs, like lesions and scars appearing on healthy skin.
The Overlord of Peace sighed again. "The great empire faces troubles both within and without."
Its tentacles brushed over the particulate sandbox, pointing toward the outer star systems where two reddish-green "ulcers" appeared.
"After the first war with the Human Imperium, for reasons unknown, Nurgle demons and Khorne's legions launched a sudden assault on the material universe, seizing fourteen of our worlds."
"The Dread-Halt and the Stray-Halt Overlords have been dispatched to suppress the demonic infection."
The tentacle shifted slightly, pointing to two streaks within their borders. "Two human fleets are rampaging through imperial space, destroying vital worlds."
As it spoke, the Overlord of Peace cast a glance at Solas, the implication clear. Without intelligence support, the humans could never have located these critical worlds so precisely within the vast sea of stars.
It was obvious that while Solas had brought back intelligence regarding the Human Imperium, he had also handed Rangdan information over to the humans.
Though the Overlords knew this well, they did not lay too much blame on him. Information had been made transparent on both sides; the Human Imperium had seized the opportunity, while the Rangdan, out of racial considerations, had refrained from a rapid offensive. They could blame no one else for falling into a passive position now.
"The front lines..." The Overlord of Peace let out another long sigh. It felt that in its long life, it had never been as helpless as it was today.
In the particulate display, a zone of grinding, attritional conflict gradually stabilized. "The front-line warfare has completely broken away from our expectations."
"The Human Imperium's resistance is unyielding. Our vanguard suffered heavy casualties, and the main force is struggling to bypass the human defense lines."
"Smaller fleets can infiltrate, but their combat capability is lacking, and they are quickly detected and eliminated by patrolling fleets."
As it spoke, the particulate image shifted continuously, displaying live battlefield footage.
"Furthermore," another Overlord appeared on the table. The Overlord of Peace pointed to the Defiant Overlord and said, "It has been captured by your brother."
Solas raised an eyebrow. The Defiant Overlord being captured by the Human Imperium was indeed outside his expectations.
He turned to look at the Wise One, who nodded helplessly. "The Defiant Overlord traveled to the Malchias system and encountered Blazkowicz Doom Novick. The fleet was completely annihilated, and the Overlord himself was taken alive."
"An emergency execution order has been issued across the entire Rangdan territory. A massive fleet is currently hunting down Novick."
The particles shifted to form a human silhouette, Blazkowicz's face slowly rotating in the air.
"Do not hunt him," Solas said, his brow furrowing tightly as he studied his brother's features. He issued a direct warning to the Wise One: "He is powerful. I do not know the exact limits of his strength."
"As the Master of the Pale Stars, for him to venture alone deep into imperial territory means he is absolutely not taking a reckless risk."
Solas spoke deliberately, emphasizing each word. "It is his overwhelming strength that grants him such unparalleled confidence."
As he spoke, the duel between Fulgrim and Blazkowicz flashed through his mind. Within a few brief exchanges, Blazkowicz had utterly dominated the fight, leaving Fulgrim near unconsciousness and requiring others to support him just to stand.
As for Fulgrim, Solas himself lacked the confidence to defeat the Phoenician.
"What else can we do?" the Wise One said powerlessly. "The Supreme Overlord issued the command himself. We must obey."
It believed Solas's judgment. Having personally unearthed this alien talent, the Wise One knew exactly how exceptional he was.
But the Supreme Overlord... That entity required only a single command for the entire Rangdan race to march to their deaths. It was the embodiment of tyranny, the manifestation of the Rangdan race's primal nature—equivalent to the Emperor, the creator of the Human Imperium.
"Furthermore," the Wise One waved its tentacles, taking control of the particulate display to reveal another recording. "I went to the Hall of Prophecy and had the psykers divine the outcome of the war."
Its tone grew increasingly solemn as the image shifted to depict a landscape of ruined walls and shattered remnants.
"No matter how the theater of war shifts, out of billions of outcomes, the Human Imperium claims the vast majority of victories."
"We turn to ash, and the Imperium initiates a massive purge of the galaxy. The Rangdan people are forced from their ancestral homes, wandering from one world to the next."
The Wise One spoke with heavy sorrow, its desperate voice trembling, unable to maintain its composure. It was as though it had witnessed the fall of the empire with its own eyes.
Solas nodded calmly, looking at the Wise One and the Overlord of Peace. "So, why have you both come to see me this time?"
To the two Overlords before him, he extended a measured degree of respect.