Cadia.
On the open-air balcony outside the banquet hall.
The night wind blew across the plains scarred by war, carrying a faint scent of lingering gunsmoke mixed with the aromas of wine and roasted meat wafting from the banquet hall below.
Ever since the Cadian War successfully closed the Eye of Terror—a feat monumental enough to be recorded in the Imperial annals—the massive fleets that had gathered from all corners of the galaxy to assist began their gradual withdrawal, leaving behind only a still-sizable military force within the Cadian system.
Though the Eye of Terror was called a spatial rift, a more accurate description was an ambiguous zone where realspace and the Warp bled together.
After successfully sealing this massive tear, the receding warp tides exposed a vast number of star systems ripe for development within regions not yet illuminated by the Astronomican.
This naturally drew the attention of numerous Rogue Traders across the Imperium, as well as military branches eager for glory.
Furthermore, these regions retained a vast trove of Chaos relics and intelligence.
Properly utilizing them would not only bolster the Imperium's power, but also allow for a deeper understanding of that age-old enemy.
Thus, after leaving behind a robust defensive force, three Primarchs gathered on the surface of Cadia. Partly to celebrate the victory, and partly to prepare for the upcoming crusade, they held a military parade rare even in the history of the Imperium.
Afterward, they hosted a grand victory feast to celebrate this hard-won triumph.
And right now, amid this banquet that had already lasted for several Terran weeks, some individuals were clearly growing restless.
Perhaps driven by an occupational habit—a dislike for such noisy and boisterous environments—Sybilla went out onto the balcony alone.
An old friend followed close behind her.
"Commissar Yarrick."
Leaning against the balustrade carved with the Imperial Aquila, Sybilla did not turn around. She merely gazed up at the unfamiliar starry sky above and spoke.
"What do you think the Imperium will become next?"
Commissar Yarrick cast a somewhat surprised glance at her.
In his memory, Sybilla was the model of a perfect Imperial Inquisitor: decisive, direct, clear-headed, formidable in combat, and capable of cold, logical thought even in desperate situations.
For her to voice such a wistful sentiment right now caught the Commissar completely off guard.
"That doesn't sound like you."
Yarrick's tone was blunt and direct.
"No, my apologies. Forget I said that."
Sybilla sighed softly and turned her gaze back to the night sky.
Above Cadia, the Warp rift that had spanned ten thousand years—the Eye of Terror—had vanished without a trace.
A sky full of stars sat tightly embedded against a pure black canvas like scrubbed diamonds, so clear it felt almost unreal.
It was a sight unseen in ten millennia.
"I was just thinking about a few things."
Sybilla paused, her voice dropping lower. "About Lord Adam."
She turned her head to look at the perpetually solemn Commissar beside her.
"Do you know roughly how long it's been since Lord Adam arrived in the Imperium?"
Hearing this, Yarrick calculated silently in his mind before speaking.
"Two years and three months, approximately."
Precisely. Such a short time.
Far too short.
From the moment Yarrick, then still a Commissar of the Armageddon Steel Legion, first laid eyes on Adam's group on the Imperial world of Valos, only that brief span of time had passed.
Sybilla slowly shook her head, her meaning undeniable.
"Around two Terran years," she said. "Compared to the ten-thousand-year history of the Imperium, it is nothing more than the space of a single heartbeat."
The Inquisitor raised her hand, pointing toward the star-dusted canopy, and continued: "Yet the changes Lord Adam has brought to this dormant Imperium are plain for all to see. The shifts he brought before were already dizzying—the resurrection of a Primarch, the unification of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the disruption of the Dark Gods' realms—"
"Yet none of those shocked the Imperium quite like what happened this time."
Her voice turned somewhat distant, as if speaking to herself.
"This might be the first time I truly realize that we have surpassed the great Imperium from ten thousand years ago. We are launching a new Great Crusade."
"All of this has moved me deeply. Before, I could still use my own strength to protect Lord Adam's safety. But now, the issues he deals with belong to a domain where I cannot intervene at all. I can only try my absolute best to share his burdens and handle the insignificant tasks."
"So, even when fighting inside the domain of the Dark Gods, I had no regrets. I was even prepared for a glorious sacrifice. Yet none of that happened. We returned safely, and everything turned out wonderful. The Eye of Terror is closed, the Primarchs are gathered together, and everyone raises their glasses in celebration—"
The Inquisitor offered a bitter smile. "It honestly makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable."
"That is just your occupational habit acting up," Yarrick criticized without mercy.
"My creed is simple: each according to their ability, each fulfilling their duty. Every person in this Imperium, from the lowliest hive worker to the Emperor Himself upon the Golden Throne, contributes heart and soul to the continuation of the human race and the glory of the Imperium."
"As for my job, it is to eliminate those who stand in the way of that progress. Whether they are Warp abominations or parasitic, useless nobles, they are all my enemies."
"Nothing more."
"Is that so?"
The corners of Sybilla's mouth curved slightly upward. "Perhaps I really am overthinking it."
Just as her words fell, the two heard the rhythmic sound of heavy footsteps behind them.
It was the crisp clatter of metallic combat boots striking the floor.
They turned simultaneously.
A familiar holy light met their eyes, along with a pair of pure white wings folded behind the figure's back and a soft halo floating above her head.
Of course, despite the description matching closely, the newcomer was not a Blood Angels Primarch.
"Long time no see, Inquisitor Sybilla, Commissar Yarrick."
Living Saint Celestine—Lucia—smiled and nodded to the two familiar faces.
Her voice was gentle yet firm, carrying a force that instinctively compelled belief.
"Lucia, where were you earlier? I thought you weren't the type to enjoy the banquet atmosphere either," Sybilla asked, somewhat puzzled.
Lucia walked slowly to the balustrade, her holy white wings trembling slightly in the night breeze.
"I went with the Sisters of the Order to comfort the Cadian soldiers."
A shade of worry passed over her face as she spoke. "Their reactions were unusual. Some were laughing and crying at the same time, some had completely broken down, some knelt on the ground wailing... and many others, after a brief burst of ecstatic cheering, slumped to the ground as if drained of all strength, doing nothing but chugging liquor down their throats."
The Living Saint let out a soft sigh.
"I had to give them courage, listen to their emotions, and help them pull themselves back together. We all know the war against Chaos is far from over."
Hearing the Living Saint's words, Sybilla's expression darkened slightly. Commissar Yarrick, however, merely shook his head slowly.
"As a member of the Astra Militarum, I actually understand them quite well."
The old Commissar spoke in a flat tone. "Charging toward the enemies of the Emperor brings no agony. The real agony is the confusion of not knowing where the target lies. The enemy those soldiers spent their entire lives remembering—that purple scar across the sky—suddenly vanished just like that. It leaves them more lost than losing a battle-brother."
"Still, they are good lads."
Yarrick softened his tone, a rare occurrence. "Give them time. They will pull through."
Before their brief conversation could conclude, another set of footsteps echoed from deep within the corridor.
Why was someone else coming?
Everyone's brows furrowed slightly.
This banquet hall was a temporary structure.
A moment's thought explained why: Cadia, a world of total mobilization that had existed solely as a military fortress for so long, had no proper venue to hold a gathering of this scale.
Finding a military mess hall of equivalent size was easy enough, but finding a location suitable for a victory feast was far harder.
However, that posed no obstacle to the Magi of the Adeptus Mechanicus, who now had Reality Warpers backing them.
It took them a single day to construct this grand building.
This particular balcony corner had been specifically chosen by Sybilla using her professional Inquisitorial eye for its extreme remoteness and privacy.
How could anyone else be wandering into a spot like this?
The footsteps drew closer.
Under the watchful, alert eyes of the trio, a figure stepped out from the corridor's shadows: a middle-aged man draped in a plain black robe, his face completely unfamiliar.
His features were utterly unremarkable, the sort that would vanish into a crowd instantly.
"Who are you?"
Sybilla let out a cold snort, her fingers reflexively resting on the hilt of the power sword at her waist.
It was the instinctual reaction of a proper Inquisitor.
"My, my, my... My Lady doesn't recognize me anymore?"
The stranger first uttered a slightly frivolous exclamation, then broke into a laugh. "It seems this endeavor was indeed a success, far beyond my expectations, hahahaha!"
Seeing the increasingly hostile gazes of the three, he sensibly raised both hands and declared his identity without hesitation.
"It is normal not to recognize me. I am Trazyn the Infinite."
"So it's you, xenos."
Sybilla's frown deepened, her hand still holding the hilt of her blade.
"Hey now! How can you say such a thing?"
Trazyn immediately voiced his displeasure with a face full of indignation. "Currently, I am a legitimate, legal citizen of the Imperium! Genetic testing can prove I am of one hundred percent pure human bloodline. This is pure slander!"
What on earth was this guy talking about?
Hearing those words, everyone's expressions turned surreal.
The bizarre reality of someone turning from a xenos into an Imperial human overnight was something even those who had followed Adam for a long time struggled to process.
Regardless, it served as yet another reminder that Lord Adam operated on a wavelength entirely different from Imperial common sense.
Yet, reflecting on the sweeping changes Lord Adam had brought to the Imperium, they suppressed the urge to voice their complaints.
Perhaps things really did need to change a bit further.
Ignoring their conflicted inner thoughts, Trazyn continued with animated excitement: "As for Miss Sybilla, don't mind it too much. Who knows, I might become a special guest instructor for the Inquisition in the future, writing a few practical textbooks on the Aeldari for you all..."
He babbled on to himself, utterly oblivious to the darkening faces of the trio.
"Truth be told, this feeling is truly fascinating."
Trazyn looked down at his pair of human hands, flexing the five fingers, a intoxicated expression spreading across his face. "Is this the genuine tactile feedback of flesh and soul? It has been far too long. Entirely different from machinery... simply marvelous."
Then, Trazyn's eyes darted around, and he leaned in close to the three.
"By the way! As an exceptional historian—and indeed the curator of the largest museum in the entire galaxy—I am very, VERY interested in the life story of a certain individual. The three of you happen to be old acquaintances of his, so could you grant me an interview?"
"Not a chance."
"Dream on."
"Save your breath."
Unsurprisingly, all three delivered absolute, unanimous rejections.
"What a pity."
Trazyn was not offended.
Shrugging his shoulders, he walked slowly toward the edge of the balcony with an ancient, elegant stride that belonged to no human civilization, standing side by side with the trio.
Trazyn raised his head, gazing up at that trembling sea of stars, so crystal clear it stirred the soul.
He remained silent for a long time.
"Such a grand undertaking."
Trazyn's voice suddenly turned serious, his previous frivolous tone disappearing without a trace. "Even at the ancient peak of our species, we might not have accomplished this. To seal a Warp rift that spanned ten thousand years under the full resistance of the Ruinous Powers behind the Veil... you might not grasp just how terrifyingly difficult such a task truly is."
"When I first learned of this plan, I thought the man was merely joking."
"Yet beyond our expectations—and beyond the expectations of those entities in the Warp—we stand right here, having witnessed it with our own eyes."
Trazyn's black robes fluttered gently in the night air.
"To witness such a historic moment... it leaves me utterly enchanted."
His thoughts drifted for a brief second.
Thinking of his kin still lying inside tombs, sleeping who-knows-how-long until some distant epoch, Trazyn could not help but shake his head softly.
By the time they opened their eyes, the galaxy would likely have undergone Earth-shattering changes.
A species impossibly young on a cosmic scale was rising once more, its power likely exceeding even the peak of the ancient Aeldari Dominion.
If His Majesty the Silent King—who had made the choice for the Necrons to slumber to evade the Aeldari's sharp edge, only to vanish without a trace afterward—were to hear this news, what kind of look would he have on his face?
Frankly speaking, Trazyn was dying to know!