TL/N: This chapter is a sneak peak on what is visible on Lucian screen, enjoy!
–
Holy Terra.
Vance, along with nine Imperial Guard veterans and twenty players, was currently aboard a transport ship burning hard toward the Forge World of Voss Prime.
He stood by the viewport in a suit of silver power armor, his face set like stone.
Behind him, the players were still obnoxiously loudly debating gacha pull rates and who had the best RNG, blissfully unaware of the absolute nightmare they were flying into.
Lucian's eyes rested on him for a second.
"The Emperor's Champion."
He murmured, his tone complex.
"Neoth, you sly old fox. You move fast."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... The First Primarch of the Inquisition."
–
Istak II, the Underhive of Hive Losa.
Slater stood at the absolute peak of a massive skull pyramid, blood still dripping from the teeth of his chainaxe.
His eyes had turned completely, solidly crimson, the flames of absolute madness burning deep within his pupils.
Every single body in that pile had been put there by his hands.
Right now, in his world, there were only two types of things: the living, and the dead.
His lips moved slightly, muttering an ancient, blood-soaked prayer:
"Blood for the Blood God. Skulls for the Skull Throne."
Wisps of crimson energy drifted up from the corpses, sinking into his body.
His muscles swelled even larger. His eyes glowed an even deeper shade of red. A vicious, terrifying grin split his face.
Slater threw his head back and took a massive breath.
The raw stench of gore flooded his nose, detonating in his lungs like a hit of pure adrenaline.
"FUCK YEAH!!!"
His roar echoed through the ruins, wild and feral as a beast.
Watching this, Lucian fell silent for two seconds.
"Khorne's Chosen."
His tone carried a hint of mixed feelings.
The guy was genuinely psychotic.
A pure, unadulterated kind of crazy.
"But..."
"The crazier he gets, the more he butchers, the more Khorne is going to love him."
"The more Khorne loves him, the more blessings he gets."
"And the more blessings he gets, the crazier he goes."
"It's a perfectly self-sustaining loop."
At this rate, the guy was going to get so unhinged that even Khorne himself would probably have to double-take.
--
Terra's Underhive, the refugee shantytown.
[Invading the Imperial Palace is Easier Than the Entrance Exam] stood in the middle of a makeshift shrine, surrounded by over a hundred equally swollen, diseased Nurgle players, with countless Underhive citizens crowding inside and out.
They were chanting verses from the sacrificial rites, their low murmurs echoing through the shanties.
Not a single mortal could actually understand the words.
It was the whispering of the Warp. The ancient tongue the Grandfather used to commune with his children.
The three pustules on the forehead of [Invading the Imperial Palace is Easier Than the Entrance Exam] were glowing faintly.
Standing in the center of the shrine, he was passionately preaching the Grandfather's doctrine to his flock of newly converted cultists.
Painted on the wall behind him, in glowing green sludge, were the words:
The False Emperor is Dead. The Grandfather Rises.
[Invading the Imperial Palace is Easier Than the Entrance Exam] could feel the plague energy inside him growing at an insane rate.
The Grandfather was watching him.
Acknowledging him.
Granting him power.
A sickly, morbid smile stretched across his face.
"The False Emperor..."
His voice was hoarse, dripping with an endless, fanatical zeal:
"One day, I'm going to smash my way into the Imperial Palace."
"And drag you right off that Golden Throne."
Watching this, Lucian couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Nurgle's Chosen."
"The sheer balls on this guy."
"The catchphrases are pretty catchy, though. Definitely got potential!"
"Nurgle's actually got a good eye."
His gaze drifted to the next screen.
It showed [All According to Plan], currently firing his lasgun into the ranks of the baseline Diasporex guards and xenos.
His eyes were focused and calm.
Deep within his pupils, that wisp of pale blue light was gone.
But Lucian knew it hadn't disappeared; it had just buried itself deeper.
"Tzeentch's Chosen."
Lucian said softly.
Then, his eyes swept across the rest of the screens.
The Emperor's Chosen, [The Imperium's Purest Inquisitor].
Nurgle's Chosen, [Invading the Imperial Palace is Easier Than the Entrance Exam].
Khorne's Chosen, [What is the Emperor But a Corpse].
Tzeentch's Chosen, [All According to Plan].
His mouth twitched slightly.
"The four Gods really do have... unique taste."
"At least the Emperor's guy is a decent, normal person."
"Neoth really is an old fox who's lived for countless millennia."
"You can say he sucks at being human, and he's garbage at raising kids, but his eye for talent is absolutely lethal."
"Nurgle picked a literal pyramid scheme ringleader."
"Khorne picked an absolute psychopath."
"Tzeentch picked a ratty little schemer..."
"Actually, yeah, that tracks perfectly."
"Looks like we're just missing Slaanesh now."
Right as he spoke, one of the screens flickered.
The feed showed a dark corner of a transport ship, where a few players wearing Solar Auxilia uniforms were huddled together.
Their IDs floating above their heads were black.
But unlike the other Chaos players, their faces weren't twisted in agony or burning with fanatical rage.
Instead, they looked completely... intoxicated.
One of the players was softly humming a tune. The melody was beautiful, yet deeply unsettling.
It was the kind of song that made you unconsciously want to hum along the second you heard it.
Another player was slumped against the bulkhead, his eyes glazed over, as if he were savoring some ultimate, unimaginable ecstasy.
Lucian's eyes lingered on them for a second.
"Almost time."
He murmured softly.
Then, his gaze shifted to the very last screen.
The footage on this screen was completely different from all the others.
It showed Planet Dal.
At the very peak of the ancient Blackstone Fortress.
Paul stood on the observation deck, his golden Aquilon Terminator armor gleaming under the pale silver moonlight.
He was looking down at the brightly lit mining pits, watching the countless figures sweating and toiling away in the raw auramite veins.
Deep within his dark golden pupils, five hidden stars slowly rotated.
Watching him, the smile on Lucian's face gradually faded.
Replaced by a complex sense of... anticipation.
"And then there's you."
He spoke softly.
"My Chosen."
"The Five Divine Traits."
"Alpha-Plus Psyker."
"Captain-General Custodes Augmentation."
"And..."
His eyes locked onto a speck of light sitting in Paul's inventory.
A light so incredibly faint it was almost invisible.
A light that resonated perfectly with the Five Divine Traits.
A light... that paved the path to the Primarch Ascension of Crimson Dawn.
Lucian looked at that golden figure, his expression dead serious.
"Paul."
He said softly.
"I don't need to worry about you anymore. I know that with every decision you make, you'll stay true to yourself."
"Don't rush it. What you're waiting for is coming soon."
Lucian's voice echoed through the empty domain.
"Just wait a little longer."
"Wait until you've mined enough auramite. Wait until you've farmed enough Imperial Coins. Wait until Crimson Dawn finally gets its first Primarch..."
"Wait until you've claimed enough sectors..."
"Wait until the Siege of Terra begins..."
"Wait until the Emperor bleeds..."
"And then you will truly become..."
"The Grand Magos of Crimson Dawn."
"The Eternal Light of Crimson Dawn."
On the screen, Paul slowly turned around, looking out toward the sprawling, brightly lit mining pits in the distance.
Countless citizens of Aurelian, soldiers of the Dawn Defense Force, and players of Crimson Dawn were down there, sweating and bleeding into the dirt.
They were grinding for Crimson Dawn's very first Primarch.
They were stockpiling strength for the approaching darkness.
Lucian's gaze pierced through the screen, resting on that golden figure.
"Crimson Dawn's first Primarch..."
He muttered to himself.
"I wonder who it's going to be?"
The domain fell into a brief silence.
Only the twelve golden screens remained, floating in the void.
Broadcasting the stories unfolding in every corner of the Warhammer universe.
He looked at those players—those members of the Fourth Scourge—fighting in different corners, for different goals, using entirely different methods.
A spark of light flashed in his eyes.
It was the look of someone watching the seeds they had planted with their own hands finally take root, sprout, and grow strong.
After a long while, Lucian suddenly burst out laughing.
That laugh was filled with pure, unfiltered anticipation.
His voice echoed through the domain, buzzing with excitement:
"In the original Warhammer lore, the main characters were the Primarchs."
"The Captains."
"The heroes whose names were etched into epic sagas."
"But now..."
"We've gotta throw in you absolute lunatics who don't fear pain or death..."
"The Fourth Scourge."
His eyes swept across every single screen.
"This is going to be so fucking fun."
Lucian leaned back against the massive sofa, lacing his hands behind his head.
"I honestly can't wait for the Horus Heresy to pop off."
His gaze grew infinitely deep.
Piercing through the twelve screens, piercing through the endless Warp, looking toward a galaxy that was about to be set ablaze.
"Once the Horus Heresy breaks out, the lines of communication across the galaxy will be completely severed."
"The Imperium will be too busy burning, Chaos will be busy infighting, and the xenos will be fighting for scraps."
"And that's when Crimson Dawn can naturally, quietly expand."
"Aurelian, Planet Dal, then the entire Korianis Sector, and then the whole Eastern Fringe..."
"Planet by planet. System by system."
"Taking back every single lost world forgotten by the Imperium or occupied by xenos, one by one."
"Terraforming every single one of them into exactly what Aurelian is..."
"A paradise for humanity."
"And when that happens..."
His eyes locked onto the screens showing Planet Dal—the miners working the veins, the soldiers running drills, the kids sitting in classrooms.
"The emotional energy they feed me won't just come from a couple of planets anymore."
"It'll be from dozens. Hundreds. Thousands."
Flames ignited in his eyes.
"And that is when I'll finally have the juice to catch up to the four Chaos Gods after the Emperor cripples them."
"That is when I'll finally possess..."
"The power to actually fix this absolute dogshit galaxy."
"Bring it on."
His whisper echoed endlessly through the vast, empty domain.
"Horus Heresy."
"I'll be waiting."