Once a crowded and filthy Terra, the planet transformed in an instant into a beautiful pastoral land. Because of this event, the worlds of countless people crumbled and were then rebuilt. For the first time, they realized that humanity possessed a creator god even stronger than the gods of chaos.
Millions of ordinary people living quietly in the depths of the city barely noticed what was happening. For a long time, those poor souls had been exhausted by their frantic work. The faint tremors when their nest was moved did not bother them and were quickly forgotten. But as time passed, the changes Datch brought eventually affected everyone, and the previously numb masses began to notice that something was amiss.
While Datch teleported the enormous Hives to the floating continents, he also helped repair the damaged, decaying infrastructure. The air from the ventilation ducts became fresh and clean; the constant noisy background vanished without a trace. Even the starch sticks had become delicious—no longer the greasy, engine-oil flavored food from before. Afterwards, dubious rumors started to spread among the ignorant populace.
Some whispered that the Emperor had suddenly appeared and turned the world into paradise. He even transported their massive nests onto the floating continents in the void. Even ancient machinery had been transformed by godly power… At first, few believed this. In their naïve understanding, who could possibly send a Hive into space? It was just too absurd.
However, as bolder, more adventurous individuals ventured outside the Hive to seek the truth—and returned with all kinds of evidence and photos—the city folk had no choice but to believe it. Terra had truly undergone a dramatic transformation. All Hive Cities once anchored to Terra's surface now drifted upon floating continents in space. Within people's hearts welled confusion, bewilderment, and even excitement. Their lives were a little better, but they still couldn't understand why the Emperor would do this. Did He not want people to remain on Terra?
Seizing the opportunity, the priests of the Ecclesiarchy acted swiftly, taking control of the narrative. The ecclesiastical priests and bishops didn't know why Terra had changed so much—was it truly the Emperor's doing? Regardless, they attributed everything to His power, seeking to increase His faith and their church's authority. Many preachers took to the streets, proclaiming that all these marvels were wrought by the Emperor's might; He wished to transform Terra into a paradise. And when people fought and died for the Emperor, their souls would return to Terra—the land where their ancestors once dwelled.
When the first group of pilgrims was allowed access to Terra and walked the road adorned with golden halos, they witnessed Terra's crystalline rivers and saw the holy city floating, bathed in radiant light. Their devotion to the Emperor grew boundless. Praise streamed endlessly from their lips. In that moment, they were sure that if they gave everything for the Emperor, in death they could enter this beautiful heaven.
Nobles of the Upper Nest, orbital dockworkers, spaceport staff, Space Marines, members of the Imperial military—these were among the first to notice Terra's transformation, and the first to have their worldview shaken. Communication networks dissolved into chaos, flooded with panicked queries, conflicting reports, and incoherent prayers. The tumult continued for a long time, until people calmed and began to adapt to the new order.
Mechanicus exploration fleets and mapping servoskulls were urgently dispatched to create entirely new planetary maps and set orbital parameters. Military garrisons and defense protocols were improved to meet new requirements. The logistics of material transport and port assignments was being reorganized, among other operations.
In truth, it wasn't just ordinary people who struggled to accept this. Their worldviews were changing, too. In fact, the Emperor Himself was not all that different from ordinary folk. He'd already regarded the resurrection of seas on Terra as a miracle, brought about by the Nameless. Who could have imagined that the Nameless would remake Terra so completely? Blue skies, clear seas, unspoiled mountains and rivers—scenes the Emperor had only seen in prehistory, now restored by the Nameless. This power was so astonishing it could only be called divine.
For the first time, the Emperor understood how his beloved eldest son, Rogal, must once have felt. He honestly considered building a statue of the Nameless on Terra, and fetching priests from the Ecclesiarchy to praise and pray to the Nameless each day, that He might never depart from mankind. Compared to the Nameless, the four Chaos Gods were but fools; if all else failed, let them all step aside, that the Great Nameless might return to the Warp and be sublimated as the Supreme Creator.
…
The Imperial Senate soon resembled a chaotic bazaar, the air thick with noise. Senior senators and departmental representatives gathered, each voicing their opinions, making the venue clamorous. Terra's transformation struck everyone hard, filling them with unease and anxiety and leading to this emergency council.
Even Trajann, the Lord Commander of the Custodes—who usually remained aloof from imperial politics—attended, joining other high lords to discuss Terra's fate.
"Terra's abnormality is almost certainly related to the Nameless," he said. "He suddenly returned to the throne room, then left for Lion's Gate Spaceport, and immediately, events unfolded on Terra." Trajann's voice trembled so faintly it was almost unnoticeable—the shock of what he'd seen in the palace had not yet faded. This method seemed simply incredible. In truth, only the creation myths of various civilizations could compare.
"The Nameless…" murmured Fadix, the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum, tapping the tabletop rhythmically. "Would it be possible to ask him to come here and explain? Such a sweeping change demands explanation—we also need to understand the consequences and potential risks."
"Grand Master Fadix is absolutely right," nodded the new Pope, resplendent in the robes symbolizing the Ecclesiarch's authority. "It's simply outrageous. Terra is the center of the Imperium, mankind's holy land. How could it be transformed so easily? Even if the results are good, working without notification is far too cavalier."
The terminally noble aristocrats also chimed in, but Trajann fell silent, a smile almost playing on his lips.
He should perhaps ask the Royal Guard to strip off their armor and perform aerobics for the people of Terra. Was he still half asleep, or had he drunk too much and was now dreaming? Did they really expect the Nameless to appear and offer explanations?
At that moment, Tieron, the Imperial High Chancellor, spoke, cutting off the nobles' arguments.
"Gentlemen, before we await an explanation from the Nameless, I believe our more pressing task is to address the many issues already at hand. Whatever the Nameless's intentions, the fact is Terra has changed. How will the floating palaces and sanctuaries be maintained? How will the orbital habitats be managed? What supports the new surface ecosystems? And how will we prevent the rebound of pollution? How can the faith and lives of billions adapt? These are the matters we must deal with now."
Tieron's words dragged the aristocratic council back to reality. For now, those elites would have to set aside their analysis of causes and refocus on immediate issues.
…
Meanwhile, Datch remained completely unaware of the changes he'd caused, absorbed only in the pursuit of art. Admiring his magnum opus and making a few minor tweaks, Datch next opened his task interface to see what missions he might have to do.
He'd spent all the points he'd so painstakingly accumulated. He would need to take on more missions, earn more currency, and continue creating wonders. Datch had plans to remodel the solar system and create marvels like the Four Heavenly Gates and the Nine Heavens. Building expressways through the Milky Way, networking the sky, linking planets…
Why not? Whatever interests you—just do it.
No sooner did Datch open the minimap than he noticed a golden question mark in the Solar System. This meant there was a story mission here. Zooming in revealed the icon was on Titan—indicating a mission there.
"Titan—isn't that the home planet of the Grey Knights?" Datch muttered to himself.
Chaos had first appeared during Horus's Rebellion, becoming humanity's greatest enemy. To safeguard the Imperium, the Emperor gave Malcador—holder of the Seal—a secret order: amid the collapse, root out internal rebellion and fight the impending Chaos, and find an individual of high moral character, dreadful martial prowess, and unwavering loyalty to serve as Warden.
Malcador achieved his mission, eventually selecting twelve elite warriors. Of these, nine formed the foundation of the original Grey Knight Chapter, whose command structure has endured for tens of thousands of years. Even now, they govern the entire Chapter, guarding dark secrets unknown to mortals.
Titan is the homeworld and monastery fortress of the Grey Knights.
"The Grey Knights' mission must have something to do with demons, too," Datch guessed. He pulled out his teleport gun, set the coordinates for Titan, and fired at the ground. A green teleport portal slowly spun into existence out of nowhere.
Datch jumped in and, in the next instant, arrived on Titan—right near the Grey Knights' Monastery.
Titan, far from its star, is ruled by extreme cold and blizzards. The Fortress-Monastery of the Grey Knights is vast and imposing, set amidst barren ice fields and towering peaks. The structure is built of dull silver-grey alloy and basalt, its lines unyielding and cold. Great spires pierce the dark clouds, each inscribed with ancient runes. The tallest, central silver spire rises like a keen sword toward the void, awash in splendor.
The Monastery is ringed with layers of anti-aircraft guns; their dense fire would easily destroy any unauthorized ship attempting to enter Titan. Neither Inquisitors nor High Lords may enter freely—for within are held the galaxy's most dangerous, terrifying prisoners: not only corporeal beings, but also concepts, curses, and stripped demonic essences, sealed in catacombs, static force fields, supernatural labyrinths, and runed cages deep underground. The Grey Knights must guard them ceaselessly, day and night, with iron will and pure soul.
Because Datch's identity was so unique, the fortress's automatic defenses did not activate immediately; it merely sounded an alarm to alert the guards. Following his minimap, Datch skipped and bounced along to the monastery's grand gates, carved with ancient runes.
Battling Grey Knight guards in silver-grey terminator armor and their heavily-armed retainers rushed to block Datch's approach. Though the Grey Knights did not interfere in imperial politics, they maintained their own channels of information—so Datch's deeds were well known. Yet Titan's secrets were so dire that even the Nameless could not investigate without leave. No matter his fame, he had to be asked to leave.
"Stop, Nameless!" came the stern, unyielding voice of the lead guard, halberd in hand, stance unwavering beneath his helmet. "This is the Sanctuary of the Grey Knights. Entry is by invitation only. State your purpose and wait for confirmation."
"My reputation goes up again!!" Datch stared at the guard, noting he had no mission marker above his head. After pondering a moment, Datch decided not to waste more time—points came first.
He opened his inventory, pulled out a Hypno Panpipe, and casually took off his clown helmet.
"You intend to—" the guard started to say. But Datch was already pressing the panpipe to his lips, blowing out a few off-key notes imbued with strange magic.
Grey Knights undergo rigorous mental training all year, with high resistance to mental control and hypnosis. But this flute's music had a unique magic. The moment they heard it, the guards were overwhelmed by sleep—their eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and though their thoughts raced, they dulled quickly.
"No… it can't be…" The words died in their throats as the fully-armored Grey Knights languished into a deep slumber.
Datch skipped past the sleeping group, pushed open the gates, and strolled into the Monastery piping his panpipe. Wherever he went, guards and prisoners alike fell into the same deep sleep. The Monastery had never had a quieter day.
Following his minimap through the winding corridors, Datch soon found the Grand Master of the Third Brotherhood—Aldrik Voldus—along with a few warriors discussing plans to rescue their missing comrade. When Datch swaggered in, Voldus and the others looked stunned and aghast. How had he arrived unnoticed, in a fortress this secure?
Datch looked around, saw a golden question mark above Voldus's head, and put away the panpipe. Ignoring everyone else, Datch strode straight to Voldus.
"Voldus, do you need any help?" he asked cheerily.
Someone began to shout over the comm line: throughout the Monastery, guards and prisoners alike had somehow fallen asleep. When Voldus heard that, he was completely shocked. Anyone would know this was the work of the Nameless. Did you hypnotize so many people just to ask if you could help me? What kind of thought process is this? You could have sent word, or I could have gone to you myself. Why force your way in?
Voldus held back his words and forced a smile. "Nameless, there isn't any need for hypnosis… Just tell me you wish to find me, and I will surely—"
"Skip," Datch interrupted loudly. "Voldus, any requests?"
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Voldus's face remained flat, but inside he was screaming. At last, he understood why the Primarch had always looked so defeated when speaking of the Nameless. Anyone in his position would lose all composure!
Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Voldus began explaining the situation via data projector.
"There's a Champion named Garran Crowe tasked with guarding the Black Blade of Antwyr. His last known raid was leading a team to confront a powerful demon on the planet Sandava II. If it's possible, please go to Sandava II and find out what happened. If Crowe has already given his life, we hope you can recover the Black Blade of Antwyr—it's extremely dangerous."
Quest interface appeared:
[Quest: Find Garran Crowe, Guardian of the Black Blade of Antwyr. Crowe is a Champion of the Grey Knights, leader of the Purifiers, and warden of flawless soul.]
Before the Great Rift, Crowe went to Sandava II to deal with a guardian demon and hasn't been heard from since.
Grand Master Voldus of the Third Brotherhood requests that you investigate Sandava II. If Crowe is alive, rescue him. If he is with the Emperor, find the Black Blade of Antwyr and return it to the Monastery.
[Quest Rewards: Experience +1500, Points +1500, Reputation +300, Michael Jackson's Crazy Dancer Outfit ×1]
"Keeper of Secrets!!" Datch's eyes shone at the mission. At present, he had already collected Skarbrand, Changeling, and Spirt Life. Only Slaanesh's demon remained. Maybe he'd catch a succubus as well, heh.