The memory of reading about the Astartes program on the internet is a distant memory gifted to him by Caspian. Yet seeing it are 2 completely different things. Much less having to feel what it is like to become an Astartes.
A pain that Dravion has never felt in his life, even counting the lives of the others is the experience he is going through.
"Who is the highest authority?" A heavily modified selenar cultist stands before him questioning him.
"What is your purpose?" the questions continued without them really waiting for an answer
"What are you?"
"Who do you serve?"
"What is your highest calling?"
"What is at the end of service?"
"When will you rest?"
Bombardes with questions for 6 months, with his hand attached to a device made to deliver shocks to the system as a form of conditioning.
Dravion was beginning to feel the weight of his conviction wavering. Answering the questions correctly does not relieve you of your suffering, it is only a verification.
He has answered the question for so long that he began to feel himself washed away of the past. The attachment to his past, to his friends, even to his brothers/fragments. Dravion felt them slipping away.
"I am the bulwark against the enemy, honour is my life, my duty is my fate, my salvation is my reward, my craft is death, my pledge is eternal service"
"I serve the Emperor and the Imperium he upholds"
"To bring death unto the enemies of the Imperium"
"Service ends in death"
"I will rest when death takes me"
His voice no longer sounding like a child of 10 years old. It grew deep, like gravel scrapping against the hard stone.
His eyes no longer carried the flare they had when he was first born. He no longer carries the hunger that has plagued him for years as they have fed him well. Yet he is forced to go through this psychological conditioning long before he has any other experiences.
"Good this one is ready, training should be carried out before full gene implantation." a cultist said
"What gene should be used?" another cultist asked
"Heavy resilience, strong foundational bones and quick metabolism…hmmm"
Thud…thud…thud…thud
Before an answer could be reached, the sound of heavy boots came from outside the facility. They walked in perfect unison, as they passed the glass section of the door. Astartes in heavy looking green armor walk passed.
There is a sense of weight to their stride, they move like a tide and all others must give way to their stance. All the children undergoing screening saw for the first time what they are being built to become.
The sense of power and control is something that appeals to children who are in this facility today.
Meanwhile on Terra
In the aurarium, the Emperor and the Sigilite are seen discussing. Although they have not gained a full understanding of the phenomena that occurred some years back, it still bears heavily on their minds.
While they discussed, uncharacteristically, an Astartes in blue ceramite armor stood within the room. He stood ramrod straight without any deviation in posture or exhibiting signs of boredom.
One thing that stood out, is that the Astartes seemed to be listening to the conversation between the Emperor and Malcador.
After many discussions, the Astartes left with the Emperor. Separating from him on his way to attend to other business.
At first the Astartes walked in steps recognized as an Astartes approaches, but slowly his steps became lighter, and lighter, until sound no longer came from his feet as they struck the halls leading up the Sanctum Imperialis.
The Custodians lining the corridors in equal and calculated distances. They covered every entrance point to the Sanctum Imperialis. Even a fly would not be able to get past the 10,000 while they are on watch.
At least that is what they thought.
This astartes moving in nimble steps, moved in a way that seemed contradictory to what motion is. His steps followed no rhythm, he could stop at any point and just as must accelerate using the same steps.
With every step he took, his focus was always on the Custodians, every blink is a step for him, every shift of the eyes meant he could run a few more steps. In this manner this astartes, moved in between the seconds, the blinks, and the shifts.
Using pillars, ornaments, and objects already present within these hall ways, he moved cautiously towards the gates of the Sanctum Imperialis.
Closer to the Sanctum Imperialis, more Custodians stand guard in shorter intervals, creating an almost 360o degree view. What they did not account for was themselves.
The astartes moved close enough to alert some of them that something was wrong. The Custodians immediately sprang to action. Tightening their grip on their weapons, shuffling their eyes left to right at speeds that will make even Astartes dizzy.
Even as they searched they could not find what was wrong, they could not identify the problem. A custodian on high alert suddenly felt something behind him.
Before he could even turn or mount an attack, he felt some chilling. Fear, a primal feeling not common to the 10,000, but a feeling non the less.
Whatever came behind him, the Custodian, a being forged to never know fear, felt a sudden, impossible chill. A hand lighter than a breath, pressed against his cervical spine.
With a quick flick of his leg and arm, he grabbed control of the Custodians guardian spear, locking it securely into place.
The Custodian suddenly lost his vision. The hand on his neck attached his brain stem, cutting off signals to the rest of his body.
'What thing is this?' the Custodian asked in disarray
He fought with every ounce of his being to open his eyes, to speak, to move even a tenth of millimeter, to allow the rest to notice, but he stood there like a statue unable to do anything.
The Astartes walked out behind the Custodian as he crossed more pillar to reach the gates, when….
Clankggg…clankggg…
The sound of a guardian spear hitting the floor echoed within the halls. Every Custodian for a brief second looked toward the noise and that was all that was needed for the Astartes to move past the doors into the Sanctum Imperialis.
Upon entry, the Astartes made his way towards the throne, only to feel a pair of eyes locked onto him.
Captain General Constantine Valdore stood before his office as he looked upon the intruding Astartes.