"I will assist in resolving this matter, Lord Regent."
Datch readily accepted his task. For a player who thrived under pressure, there was no reason to refuse a quest.
At that moment, Sicarius entered from outside. He bowed respectfully first to the Lord Commander, then to Datch.
In the First Expeditionary Fleet, many regarded Datch as the Emperor's avatar. Though he didn't hold an official title, his status was extremely high.
"Do you have business?" Guilliman frowned as he questioned Sicarius.
"My lord," Sicarius reported, "Eldar Farseer Illiyan Nastase of the Craftworld Ulthwé requests an audience."
After a moment's consideration, Guilliman nodded. "Let him in."
Sicarius bowed and departed.
A moment later, a tall, slender Farseer in ornate armor entered. His face was unnaturally beautiful, with pointed ears and large, almost entirely black eyes, showing only a hint of white at the edges.
Illiyan Nastase bowed to Guilliman, then glanced at Datch, who looked obviously surprised, but responded with a respectful nod of his own.
Before arriving, the great Farseer Eldrad had warned him of the presence of the "Nameless One" and advised utmost caution.
Although Nastase had boarded this ship several times before, he'd never met his target. In all galactic strategic meetings, this person was always absent, his whereabouts a mystery.
To see him in person now came as a complete surprise.
He seemed an unremarkable individual, so why had the great Eldar Farseer asked for special vigilance?
"Farseer Nastase, it is an honor to meet you. What brings you here?" Guilliman asked.
"Primarch, I bring a warning," Nastase replied, tracing a holographic star map into the air with a gesture.
"He's so handsome!!" Datch screamed internally.
No wonder everyone wanted to be a magician—these powers were just too cool.
"This is the world of Gathalamor."
Guilliman immediately recognized the planet marked on the map.
"Yes," Nastase nodded, shifting his fingers slightly. The map shifted again, revealing a warp route leading directly to this location.
"What does this mean?" Guilliman frowned.
"A storm is raging. If the forces of Chaos claim victory, this region will be lost forever. Once-holy dead will be twisted into foes by the power of the warp," Nastase intoned calmly.
"Considering how this dire threat could shatter the morale of the Expeditionary Force, Great Farseer Eldrad sent me to warn you, so you may prepare."
Guilliman smiled. "Don't worry. We have long prepared for such an eventuality."
He paused and pointed to Datch standing beside him. "The Nameless One will go to the world of Gathalamor himself. As long as he is there, no scheme of Chaos, however vile, can threaten us."
"Frankly, as the Emperor's son, you seem not to realize the gravity of this threat," Nastase replied. "I recommend sending an additional fleet for support immediately."
Guilliman simply smiled. "The Nameless One goes precisely because he knows how terrifying this crisis is. His presence guarantees the Imperium's victory, no matter what Chaos tries."
Nastase frowned. Can a single man really match the power of an army?
It was this very arrogance, this blind disregard for warning, that had doomed the Imperium in ages past. If the Eldar did not still need humanity's aid against Chaos, they would never waste time on such ignorant mortals.
Noticing Nastase's expression, Guilliman continued, "The Imperium has always tracked events on Gathalamor,"
"There, the Iron Warriors muster in strength, alongside Word Bearers versed in chaos rituals, a host of corrupted human troops, and enemy void fleets."
"Given such detailed knowledge, why send only one man?" Nastase puzzled. "It is only logical to dispatch reinforcements as soon as possible."
Datch silently listened beside them, stunned by the realism of AI-controlled alien NPCs. They even questioned the player, doubted him, made the galaxy's fate hang in balance.
Thankfully he hadn't left in a hurry, or else he would've missed this revealing banter.
Note to self: always eavesdrop on NPC conversations from now on. See what they really think of me.
But being looked down upon by NPCs was absolutely unacceptable.
"Go to Gathalamor. Crush Chaos solo. Then return and make that xenos eat his words—a lesson in why the Player must never be insulted!"
Datch pulled out Rick's Portal Gun and selected the coordinates for Gathalamor on his minimap.
Pointing the gun at the floor, he fired. A vivid stream of green, shimmering, ever-flowing substance erupted forth, opening a swirling portal of light at his feet.
Datch leapt through, vanishing into the radiant gateway—which snapped shut behind him, like a curtain being yanked in fast motion. The green hole blinked twice and vanished without a trace.
Nastase was momentarily stunned. Those nearly-black Eldar eyes went wide in shock.
The "Nameless One's" teleportation ability was utterly unlike the psychic or warp-jump techniques of the Eldar or even the Imperium.
There was no psychic turbulence, no nauseating warp taint, no icy shudder of Webway transit.
The green portal was creepy in its tranquility, opening and closing as smoothly as a door. Not so much a dangerous interstellar jump, as simply stepping out.
Guilliman noticed Nastase's shock, smiling knowingly.
When confronted by the unknown, all minds went through the same journey: first skepticism, then an existential crisis.
The Primarch let the Farseer stew alone in his bewilderment, to give him time to comprehend what he had seen.
…
Datch materialized on the Radiant, an Imperial Navy ship. Its owner, Captain Marcus Achallor of the Shield-Captain, was present.
This company of Adeptus Custodes was second only to the Custodian Marshals of the Imperial Household. The rank of Captain-General had been vacant for ages.
Before the Great Rift, the Imperial Defense Forces had only two Guardians—earning glory in peacetime was nearly impossible. Even Maldovar Colquan, now Tribune, had only achieved promotion after great merit in the Battle of the Lion's Gate.
Marshal Trajann now commanded the Custodian detachment aiding Primarch Guilliman's crusade.
Their mission here was to investigate Bucharis's Ring, a Chaos relic.
When a green portal appeared, Achallor and three other Custodes stood, startled.
Watching Datch emerge through the portal, they instinctively saluted.
"Nameless Lord."
Datch hopped over, opened the mission menu, and inquired according to protocol,
"How is the investigation of Bucharis's Ring progressing?"
Achallor walked over to the console and activated the holo-display.
"Thus far, no artifact confirmed. However, evidence suggests it must be in Gathalamor's greatest holy city. All centers of planetary conquest, the Ecclesiarchy, and the voidport are clustered here—Imperial power is strongest in this city."
While the enemy controlled two-thirds of the planet, they'd yet to capture the sacred city, thanks to determined resistance.
The city's defense was a patchwork of Guard regiments, tank corps, Sisters of Battle, Mechanicus detachments, and House Kamidar's Knights.
"They've held out against repeated traitor attacks, repelling the enemy from the city and preventing desecration of its tombs."
Gathalamor was not only a shrine world, but functioned as a vast grave world; countless faithful were buried amidst grand mausoleums and mountain-like tombs.
The sacred city was a replica of the fabled "Perfect City" of the Great Crusade.
"Lorgar and his cult must be furious. Once, the Imperium fought them for declaring the Emperor a god. Now they claim he isn't, and yet the war goes on?" Datch mused.
When Guilliman ordered the Perfect City burned, Lorgar, who once held an unshakable faith in the Emperor's divinity, began to question.
Eventually coerced by his foster father Kor Phaeron and the sinister Erebus, he and his followers made pilgrimage to the Eye of Terror, joining with the powers of the four gods and launching the Horus Heresy.
Today, the Emperor was venerated as the Emperor. Guilliman, once the destroyer of the Perfect City, was revered as his son by multitudes, while Lorgar—once the Emperor's devotee—had become a hated traitor.
Such is the bitter irony of the ages.
Chaos now controlled nearly all orbital space, boasting void fleets stronger than the Imperium's,
yet powerful, heavily armed Imperial space stations and ports still reigned overhead.
The traitors dared not assault them directly for fear of heavy losses, leaving both sides at a temporary stalemate, though it could not last.
The Imperium prepared a relief fleet to break the impasse—but the question remained: would they retake the city, or would Chaos annihilate the last Imperial defenders?
With his orders in hand, Datch transferred to the Glorious's airstrip, boarded his gunship, and descended planetward alongside Captain Achallor and his men.
Escorted by fighters, the gunship safely landed at the Imperial-controlled helipad.
The defenders' commander, Colonel Luthor Dvorgin, greeted them with the Aquila salute, as did the other force representatives.
"When will Imperial aid arrive?" Dvorgin asked anxiously.
Datch ignored him, skipping ahead.
Achallor reassured, "The First Expeditionary Fleet is already aware of your plight. You will have to hold out a little longer, but once the relief fleet arrives, the Imperium will reclaim this land. For now, don't worry too much about enemy attacks—the Nameless One will assist you."
"The Nameless One?" Dvorgin was baffled.
Achallor pointed to Datch, who giggled to himself while opening supply crates along the way.
Dvorgin scowled, "He's only one man. How can a lone traveler defend us against Chaos?"
Reports suggested the enemy was scavenging corpses and bones to forge blasphemous weapons—which, if completed, could bring doom to the city.
"Gathalamor will not fall," Achallor assured everyone. "The Nameless One will help us defend this land."
"I hope so," Dvorgin sighed, unconvinced. The traitors' military might was overwhelming; how could a single man turn the tide?
Achallor divulged the true purpose: to secure Bucharis's Ring before the enemy could claim it.
"Enemy warbands are searching for the Chaos artifact. Cult leader Tharador Yheng directs vast dig teams, discarding the corpses of Imperial servants as they excavate tombs."
Outmatched, the defending forces could barely hold the line, let alone stop them; elite squads sent to counterattack perished at the hands of Iron Warriors, Word Bearers, and traitor Astartes.
Dvorgin and his troops had no hope but to watch the desecration unfold.
"Show me the excavation's location," Achallor demanded. "We'll stop them."
…
Datch departed, flying above the devastated city.
The ruins writhing with screams, survivors forming makeshift camps amid rubble—emaciated, clothed in rags, hungry and desperate. Any who fell into enemy hands would be sacrificed to the gods.
Imperial troops, wary of possible rebels among the refugees, eyed everyone with suspicion.
At that moment, exclamation marks appeared above the survivors' heads—clicking one showed a quest: to get food, water, and pray for the war to end soon.
Many moved in a daze, praying to the Emperor for deliverance.
At the frontlines, Datch saw mud-streaked, exhausted soldiers holding out in shattered, blackened fortifications. They too had exclamation marks above their heads.
"Perfect grinding spot for experience and reputation," Datch thought.
Producing a mithril pickaxe, he began to break apart the battered wall of a giant ruined building, under everyone's stunned gaze.
The damaged structures transformed into floating cubes, which zipped into Datch's inventory as he approached.
Using these, Datch built high fortifications to block enemy fire.
The golden hammer could only repair, not create—but using the gathered resources, he fortified the front lines.
After that, he used the golden hammer to fix void shield generators, tanks, machinery, artillery, and even healed wounded soldiers.
Within just a few hours, the entire front was transformed.
The miraculous turnaround quickly went viral. Soldiers praised the Emperor's messenger, swearing he had sent divine aid.
The exasperated Commander Dvorgin led his officers forward. When they saw newly restored fortifications, dozens of fully repaired tanks and cannons, they could hardly believe it.
Even the Kamidar knight representative gawked at a knight engine, looking as if fresh out of the factory amid the charred ruins.
Mechanicus praise poured in after scanning the formerly scrap mechs—now perfectly restored, all hidden dangers gone.
"This… this is the Omnissiah's work!"
Meanwhile, after fixing the defenses, Datch turned his attention to the refugees.
He used the golden hammer to repair buildings and water systems, then, using points, redeemed a "Multiplication Liquid (72h)" from the shop, sprinkled it on bread, and doubled the food repeatedly until there was enough for everyone.
The miracle left an impression—Dvorgin and other searchers were stunned speechless. Even the Mechanicus attendant, seeing this physics-defying feat, nearly had a meltdown.
Among the refugees, rebel agents were having a crisis.
If the Emperor's envoy could perform such miracles, what was the point of worshipping the gods of Chaos?
But as awe spread, a man in an ornate bishop's robe suddenly burst out, cursing loudly:
"By the Emperor, he is a heretic! A total heretic!"
"This is no miracle—it's a demonic trick! The devil leads us astray. Followers of the Emperor, do not be deceived! Capture him, burn him, so the Emperor may grant us mercy!"
…