Year 7987 CE.
Upon the surface of the sun.
Standing on the rapidly flowing sea of scorching plasma beneath his feet, Orsaga calmly turned his gaze toward the void of space, where fleets of starships were locked in brutal combat.
Vast warships — the culmination of centuries of human civilization's resources and labor — were now tearing each other apart for the sake of competing human factions.
Humanity's long-accumulated wealth and progress were unraveling before his very eyes, vanishing at a pace visible to the naked eye.
After watching for a time, Orsaga glanced with interest at Ra, who stood beside him.
"You won't stop them?" he asked.
Shrouded in a mantle of psychic energy, Ra did not turn his head. He continued to watch the distant conflict and shook his head.
"There is no need. Civilization has stagnated for far too long. Only death and fire can once again ignite humanity's drive to progress.
So this necessary sacrifice — I will not prevent it."
Orsaga chuckled dismissively, but said no more.
Ra sought to make humanity self-reliant and self-strengthening.
Yet he did not realize that the Chaos Gods of the Warp had already watched this universe for eons.
Even if Orsaga himself did not interfere, they would still meddle — toying with humanity as though it were a newborn civilization on a game board.
For the Prime Universe was exactly that: their gaming table.
The moment anything remarkable arose, it drew their gaze.
Thus, strength would inevitably invite the malice of the Chaos Gods.
But weakness was no safer — it only meant annihilation at some unforeseen moment.
For civilizations within the Prime Universe, survival was little short of despair.
Nor were the lesser universes any better off.
Lacking importance, they could be erased at any moment on a whim.
In this reality, only those at the very pinnacle of existence could expect to live securely. For all others, survival depended on sheer fortune and resilience.
To Orsaga's eyes, Ra's ideals were simply the product of ignorance — too idealistic, born from incomplete knowledge.
"Self-reliance" sounded noble, even inspiring — the words of a rising star.
But in such a dangerous cosmos, what a species needed most was a powerful, wise leader with absolute authority and trust, capable of guiding its members unfailingly along the correct path.
Dispersed power only created cracks, and in those cracks, the Chaos Gods would always pry — sowing discord, sabotaging progress, and twisting civilization toward ruin.
Ra, however, merely glanced at Orsaga's disdain, neither angered nor moved to argue. He stood in silence, continuing to watch the war in the distance.
In his view, as long as Orsaga stood like a great wall shielding humanity from outside threats, internal conflicts were inevitable.
When contradictions and tensions within could find no outlet, civil war was only natural.
So long as the fighting did not spiral entirely out of control, the losses were acceptable.
Beyond releasing pent-up strife, another factor shaped Ra's decision:
the stagnation of human technology.
It had reached a standstill, and that troubled him.
Society had ossified. Progress had slowed to a crawl.
But war, hatred, and profit — these were the greatest engines of advancement.
Under the crucible of war, hidden potential within the human body and spirit would be awakened without end.
In short bursts of time, they would achieve what once took entire lifetimes.
Thus, for Ra, war was a necessary ordeal — a release of tensions, a spur to growth.
Unless the conflict reached such a scale that it threatened the very foundation of humanity itself, he had no intention of interfering.
This war was, to him, a necessary process.
A necessary war.
A necessary loss.
---
Several days later.
Elsewhere in the Milky Way, upon a world belonging to the Aeldari.
The Art God's Grand Festival was in full swing.
Countless Aeldari gathered in joyous celebration.
The most fervent among them were the Art God's devoted followers, who dreamed of becoming his handmaidens.
In their eyes, to dwell forever beside their God was the highest of honors.
And beyond spiritual devotion, there was no shortage of material allure.
Any handmaiden accepted into the Crimson Heaven was granted eternal youth, formidable power, and access to boundless artistry.
The dual temptation of faith and reward drove the Aeldari into near frenzy.
Were it not for the Art Sanctum's ability to discern sincerity, many faithless Aeldari would surely have sought to deceive their way in.
Even so, watching from the sidelines remained a universal pastime.
Whenever the Festival was held, not only Aeldari but alien races from all around came to witness.
The crowds grew so overwhelming that the festival world could not contain them all, forcing the Art Sanctum to raise its entry requirements again and again.
Thus, to be admitted at all during the Festival had become a mark of status in itself.
---
Walking through the bustling streets, surrounded by alien faces and voices, Golariel and her companions gazed about with curiosity.
For them, this interstellar celebration was full of novelty.
Especially Golariel and Alison — who, upon seeing the Aeldari, felt a peculiar sense of kinship, as though meeting distant relatives.
With their physical resemblance and cultural similarities — at least eighty percent alike — such feelings were natural.
Though they met Aeldari handmaidens daily in the Crimson Heaven, their fascination with this people's customs and culture had not diminished.
They observed the architecture, the artistry, the way of life revealed all around them.
Beside them, however, Kayla offered a simpler judgment:
"This place is indeed quite nice."
Compared to the more bizarre alien species, the Aeldari were pleasing to the eye — at least, not offensive to look at.
After this remark, her expression shifted thoughtfully. With curiosity, she asked Orsaga:
"What is the future of this race?"
She knew well that Orsaga could peer into — and even alter — past, present, and future.
Orsaga smiled faintly.
"The future has many branches… but most of them do not end well. After all, happiness is a luxury."
Hearing this, the others fell silent.
For individuals, happiness was already rare.
For an entire race, it was rarer still — a millionfold more difficult.
___
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