A new Garuda, incarnation of God Datch, stood atop the ruined facility. Iron-grey metal wings were folded at both sides.
Crimson optical sensors inside the eye sockets glowed faintly.
The head rotated slightly left and right, scanning the surrounding environment and recording data.
The gene-witch stood opposite Brant and the other Astartes, wearing a brown robe worn threadbare and tattered by time.
In her left hand she held a cable-like staff wound with wire and a string of charms that rang like bells.
Her face was almost covered by the hood; the exposed portion was wrinkled like old parchment.
The skin was covered in fine wrinkles and dark-brown spots produced by long-term radiation exposure.
When the staff was activated, a faint blue light was released from its tip, flickering and wavering between light and shadow.
The blinking of the light synchronized with the beat of the aged heart pulsing in her chest.
She was the last witch of the Lunar Gene-Cult, who had once held the secrets of human creation that even the Emperor had feared.
"We will do everything in our power to complete the mission," Captain Tarsa stated.
"Your promises are meaningless. What we need is an elite force that can destroy the laboratory or snatch the Primordial Mother back from those traitors," the gene-witch said.
"Now the only ones we can rely on are ourselves. The Imperial fleet has been driven to the edge of the Sol System by Horus."
"We are Space Marines. We can destroy anything if we wish."
Nykona Sharrowkyn of the Raven Guard said it quietly.
His pitch-black power armour had almost melted into the shadows in the dim light.
The gene-witch shook her head, let her wrist hang limp, and the metal base of the staff struck the ground heavily.
"Even though the entire civilisation stands on the brink of collapse, you are still that full of confidence."
Brant stepped half a pace forward; his power-armour boots left a clear footprint in the dusty ground.
"We must not waste any more time. If you want something done, you should take action as quickly as possible. The Sisypheum hiding on the tracks may be discovered by the enemy at any moment."
"If the fate of the Sisypheum is exposed, none of us will be able to escape."
The gene-witch looked around at Sharrowkyn, Brant, and the others and finally sighed from a fatigue that seemed about to be crushed by repeated loneliness and wariness.
"Come with me."
"Where is the real Mother?" Brant asked as he caught up with her. "Shouldn't she be right beside you?"
"She is not in my hands." The gene-witch shook her head. "Two hundred years ago, when the Emperor began his attack on the Moon, the matriarch asked me to take the Primordial Mother away in order to stop the Emperor from using the Primordial Mother to do terrible things."
"For these two hundred years I have borne this burden alone, leaving behind the sisters of the cult, unable even to go to the fountain of rejuvenation for help."
"As time passed, my body gradually aged and I could no longer bear such a heavy responsibility."
"In despair, I opened the secret chamber of the gene-laboratory on Mount Herodotus Omega, hid the Primordial Mother inside it, and applied several seals that cannot be broken."
"It seems the seals you set are not as unbreakable as you thought." Tarsa shifted his gaze from the gene-witch toward the distant gigantic volcano.
"Yes." The gene-witch nodded.
"Even on the lunar surface, the corruption of betrayal had penetrated to the root. Just as I was trying to recover my stamina and store power in order to resume the mission I was found by the enemy's hunting dogs."
"I used my own power to defeat the pursuing enemies and transmitted a distress signal. However, in that process the Primordial Mother's location was also exposed."
The gene-witch raised her staff and pointed it at the distant volcano.
"Martian tech-priests are trying to break my seals. If we do not take some countermeasure immediately, the Primordial Mother will fall into their hands."
"Then let us take action," Sharrowkyn said. "In the name of the Emperor, we must not let the Primordial Mother pass into their hands."
After a short discussion, Sabik Wayland and two other Techmarines remained on the spot to repair the Storm Eagle and put it in a state where it could take off.
The remaining members followed the gene-witch toward the laboratory, intending to seize or destroy the original prototype.
Datch beat his wings and took flight. His Garuda form possessed mobility far surpassing ordinary Astartes.
At low altitude, he could adjust flight posture with minimal amplitude and clearly see everything on the ground.
Datch recalled what had happened on this original timeline.
He remembered that among these NPCs, only the Raven Guard Sharrowkyn had survived and slept together with the Primordial Mother on an unknown space station until the Primordial Mother was recovered by Roboute Guilliman.
The party set out from an unfinished exhaust station at the foot of the canyon volcano.
According to the gene-witch, there was a secret passage leading to the laboratory.
However, as they walked along the exhaust station and entered the secret passage, the radiation detector readings continued to rise.
"Where on earth is this?" the Apothecary Tarsa asked.
The radiation dose displayed on the helmet surged to red-alert level.
"This used to be a nuclear-waste dump," the gene-witch said without turning her face.
"What? Building a gene-laboratory in a place like this — what does that mean?" Tarsa's voice rose a notch.
"In order to conceal the laboratory's existence. No one would have imagined a gene-laboratory was installed underground at a nuclear-waste disposal site."
"What kind of experiment requires this much caution?" Sharrowkyn asked.
The gene-witch faltered. "It was for developing more powerful warriors for the Legions. However, that plan produced only malformed organisms and monsters, so it was abandoned, and the experimental facility was closed."
Datch, hovering low in the air, eavesdropped on the NPCs' conversation.
Should even more powerful warriors be raised?
Was this a prototype experiment for the first-generation Space Marines?
The official explanation is as follows. How did the original Mother-text pass into Cawl's hands?
However, Mechanicum adepts actually used this to produce a new generation of Proto-Forged Space Marines.
Rumour has it that the Emperor met Belisarius Cawl and had some unusual conversation.
It is extremely likely that the Emperor guided Cawl to complete his own unfinished work of the past and thereby strengthened the power of the Imperium of Man.
The gene-witch led the party into the secret passage and made them appear in a dark hall.
Surplus building materials and damaged machines were piled on the site; several forklifts that had long lost power were parked in a corner.
The forks supported unopened metal containers; the labels on the container surfaces had faded beyond reading.
Going further, the party encountered a barricade composed of damaged wheeled transport vehicles and empty drums painted with biohazard symbols.
The metal frames of the wheeled beds were terribly rusted and looked ready to collapse at a slight touch. And the red trefoil pattern of the biohazard markers still shone dazzlingly even in the dim lighting.
On the wall surfaces there were numerous burnt grooves made by laser irradiation, radial cracks made by grenade fragments embedded in stone, and craters from bullet-impact marks so dense they were almost continuous.
These traces were not new; some of the metal around the bullet marks had oxidised and changed to a deep green.
"What happened here?" From these traces, Sharrowkyn perceived that fierce combat had occurred here.
"This is a hatchery. The Emperor once created various things here, yet it ended in failure. The monsters became uncontrollable and the guards disposed of them."
At the gene-witch's words, the Space Marines looked at one another with expressions of surprise. They had never imagined such a past existed.
As they advanced inside, they saw gene-pods lined up in rows.
They lined both sides of a wide, curved corridor and were stacked from the ground to the dome. Their number was enormous; at the far end of the corridor they vanished into darkness.
Most of the gene-pods were empty; the thick transparent glass was covered in dust; the internal support frames and nutrient-solution supply tubes had long dried, leaving only cracked organic residue.
However, through the cloudy glass, several gene-pods could still be seen, exposing gigantic bodies inside.
They were sturdier and more powerful than Space Marines; the muscle groups of their limbs showed a dense texture like steel cables.
They floated in long-dead nutrient solution with their eyes closed. Suture scars left by transplant surgery still remained on their skin.
This was the new army the Emperor of that time had wanted.
Next-generation Astartes: taller, stronger, able to survive and fight in the harshest environments even without power armour.
This would also become the foundation of a future full-scale interstellar war. A scholar's prototype.
Sharrowkyn and the others showed little emotion on the surface, walked straight through the training ground, and followed the gene-witch into the secret chamber at the back.
Along the way, the gene-witch suddenly raised a scream filled with pain.
Suddenly she collapsed to her knees; the staff slipped from convulsing fingers; the metal haft struck the stone slab with a dull sound.
Her entire body trembled violently. It was as if the nerve endings inside her skull were being torn by something.
"What's wrong?" Sharrowkyn reacted first, seized the gene-witch's shoulder, and dragged her into the nearest cover.
The others took up bolters and prepared to fire.
Their first reaction was that they had been attacked.
"My seals have been broken; the enemy has invaded the secret chamber."
The gene-witch's voice was filled with anguish. "The pre-set isotope-sensing system has been destroyed, and I have also taken damage."
"Then we need to speed up more," Sharrowkyn stated.
When the gene-witch recovered somewhat, the team immediately set out.
As they approached the secret chamber, they saw many servitors, tech-priests, and even Astartes corpses.
These had all been killed by the security measures the gene-witch had installed.
By a rough estimate, there were more than five hundred bodies.
Despite producing such enormous casualties, the enemy still had not surrendered.
Every defence system showed signs of being broken through by force.
The enemy had forcibly broken through the outermost security measures of the secret chamber by sacrificing human lives; even the dome portion of the secret chamber had been destroyed by the enemy.
When Sharrowkyn and the others arrived at the secret chamber, the traitor Martian adept had already obtained the Primordial Mother.
It was a silver cylinder so smooth it was as if liquid mercury had been forcibly solidified into a perfect cylindrical shape by some invisible force.
A Mechanicum aircraft slowly descended through the damaged dome, preparing to carry away the tech-adept who had obtained the Primordial Mother.
Once they returned to the spaceship, it would become impossible to recover.
"Quickly, take it back!" Realising this, the gene-witch urged Sharrowkyn and the other Astartes in an anxious tone.
The loyalists, including Sharrowkyn, shouted "For the Emperor!" with almost no hesitation and charged with bolt pistols and chainswords in hand.
Datch beat his wings in Garuda form and flew into the air.
Garuda is a mechanical creation forged by the warriors of the Iron Hands, yet
just as with the present state of the Imperium of Man, there also exist several functions even they themselves do not understand. People know how to use various devices that are relics of the Dark Age of Technology yet cannot explain their operating principles.
Datch activated Garuda's image-sharing mode; the data was instantly packaged into a highly compressed and encrypted tactical data-stream.
That information was transmitted via a communication protocol unique to the Iron Hands to the helmet tactical panels of loyalist Astartes such as Sharrowkyn.
Garuda soared into the air with bloodshot eyes and clearly captured the positions of every enemy that entered its field of vision.
The instant Sharrowkyn and the others obtained Garuda's vision, their footsteps staggered slightly all at once.
This was essentially like possessing a cheat code of X-ray vision.
"Your Iron Hands combat style is truly wonderful," Tarsa said excitedly. "To be able to share vision with Garuda."
Brant looked a little awkward.
Ah...
This is my first time experiencing something like this too!!
This is the first time I've seen Garuda possess such an ability!
Who upgraded it?
By utilising Garuda's unique visual ability, the unit's advance developed into a precise and almost brutal information war.
The moment Sharrowkyn reached a corner, he noticed two combat-servitors behind it reloading weapons.
He took a grenade from his waist and threw it with just the right force.
The grenade bounced once off the wall, then rolled accurately to the feet of the two servitors and blew them to pieces.
Brant and his comrades were also skilled at cleverly utilising the visual ability Garuda had given them.
Along the way, they accurately sniped enemy combatants and traitor Astartes.
Many enemies, even after death, wore expressions filled with confusion.
There had been no missed footsteps, no missed sights.
Why do those who swear loyalty to the Emperor know only how to throw grenades and shoot through walls?!
Sharrowkyn and his party succeeded in boarding the spaceship where the Martian adept was lurking.
"You—"
"You..."
Just as the Martian adept was about to begin speaking, he was shot in the head and collapsed to the ground with a thud.
The gene-witch knelt before the fallen Martian adept and tore off the mechanical tentacles still emitting electricity from the back of his neck.
She pulled an extremely thin data-spike from her left wrist, stabbed it into the Martian adept's temple, and read the other party's database.
The next instant, the gene-witch said this with a grim expression.
"Damn it, he is calling for help. Someone should arrive immediately."
"We must hurry," Tarsa said.
"Come, let us take the Primordial Mother." The gene-witch withdrew the data-spike, crouched, and picked up the Primordial Mother.
The party returned the way they had come and disembarked from the spaceship.
However, the spaceship that had lost its crew and pilot, just as it was trying to escape the landing platform…
The reactor, having lost a stable control system, exploded and caused a critical reaction.
The gigantic metal hull split cleanly in two from the centre; the blast was as if an invisible gigantic fist had slammed into the floor of the landing platform.
The explosion destroyed the laboratory's structural columns and caused a chain collapse.
It also detonated the nuclear waste that had previously accumulated inside the mountain.
Radioactive material instantly evaporated at high temperature; volume expanded exponentially and formed a dark-red pillar of light erupting from the volcano.
This made the entire volcano tremble as if it had come back to life.
In the shockwave of the explosion, Sharrowkyn and his comrades were scattered like withered leaves blown by a storm.
The Primordial Mother fell from the gene-witch's hands, rolled several times down the sloped ground, and finally stopped beside Tarsa.
However, Tarsa's situation was dangerous. Radioactive flames blocked the path to his comrades.
Intense heat made the surrounding stone slabs crackle; radiation dose rose to an extremely high level.
From the power armour's sensors, an ear-splitting continuous alarm sounded.
Though Tarsa had been born on Nocturne and possessed fire resistance far surpassing Space Marines of other Legions,
he also could not withstand this firestorm mixed with high-concentration radiation.
In a mere few seconds, the green paint of the power armour bubbled and melted in the high temperature; the metal inner layer beneath was exposed and rapidly changed to red.
According to the original timeline, the son of Vulkan born on the world of Nocturne should have died here.
Datch, transformed into Garuda form, raised a high-pitched cry and drew Tarsa's attention.
Then he threw all the grenades plundered from traitor Astartes and their combat-servitors into the gaps where the flames were weakening.
Explosion sounds rang out one after another; a gigantic shockwave blew burning waste and destroyed metal fragments into the air.
The still-burning nuclear waste was blown left and right by the blast; a scorched passage just wide enough for one person to pass appeared.
Sharrowkyn, the gene-witch, Brant, and the others were greatly surprised to see this.
This mechanical bird is really smart!
"You aren't secretly engaged in Abominable Intelligence research behind the scenes, are you?" The gene-witch looked at Brant with suspicious eyes.
"How could such a thing be? This is slander, outright slander. How could the Iron Hands go against the Emperor's will?" Brant retorted uneasily.
What exists in the Iron Hands Legion is not called "Abominable Intelligence"; it is merely a highly intelligent machine-spirit.
Just as everyone was rejoicing that Tarsa had safely escaped the atomic-bomb storm,
suddenly the roar of engines filled the air, and a Thunderhawk gunship plunged from the dense smoke.
On the ash-white hull, the emblem of the Sons of Horus was painted in deep red.
Heavy bomb-bay racks on both sides of the wings left two ash-white trajectories in the dense smoke.
The gunship executed a textbook airborne assault.
The airframe suddenly rose to an altitude of twenty metres or less above the ground; simultaneously with the rise, the cabin door on the lower part of the airframe opened with force.
Two teams of Sons of Horus clad in Terminator armour leapt from the gunship hatch.
Their heavy bodies slammed into the ground with a dull sound; the stone slabs at their feet shattered into spiderweb patterns. Cracks.
Their entire bodies were covered in composite armour of ceramite and adamantium; through the helm visors, only a slight thin streak of dark-red light could be glimpsed.
Thanks to the heavy armour, they need not concern themselves with the firestorm blazing around them.
Deep-purple blazing flames licked their leg armour and shoulder armour, leaving faint scorch marks that were completely impenetrable.
"Retreat along the original route!" Tarsa shouted.
Terminators are like walking tanks. Without heavy weapons, one cannot penetrate their armour.
Considering their current condition and weapons, there is no prospect at all of defeating two fully armed Terminator squads.
The instant the Sons of Horus landed, they took up the heavy bolters attached to the Terminator armour and began suppression fire toward the place where Sharrowkyn and the others were.
A rain of bolts falling like a storm drove Sharrowkyn and the others behind cover.
Sharrowkyn and his team also began a decisive counterattack, yet the bolters they were standard-equipped with could not penetrate the frontal defence of Terminator armour.
Only very shallow bolt-marks would have remained on those thick ceramite plates.
However, at that moment a dazzling pulse beam was suddenly released and struck a Terminator's head.
In an instant, the Terminator's head evaporated from the inside due to intense heat; the helmet visor shattered into countless small ceramite fragments.
The headless shell, belching black smoke, remained standing on the spot for a time shorter than a heartbeat, then collapsed to the ground with a thud.
At this sight, the Sons of Horus and people including Sharrowkyn lost their words.
They all turned toward the source of the attack.
Garuda, who had originally been guiding Tarsa to escape, now stood atop a long-abandoned large transport vehicle.
Beneath its metal claws sat a pulse-cannon launcher originally owned by a combat-servitor.
That launcher had been forcibly removed from the wreckage of the airframe on which it had originally been mounted.
Several cables temporarily drawn from the rubble were connected directly to the energy core remaining in the device.
It was hard to believe how a bird could complete the series of actions of disassembly, reassembly, aiming, and firing.
Yet now the enemy side had completed it and killed one of the Sons of Horus.
"Kill that damned bird!" one of the Sons of Horus shouted as if his anger had gone beyond the pale. The bird had killed a comrade!
If this news spread, they would be laughed to death by their colleagues.
The Sons of Horus turned their muzzles and poured concentrated fire of heavy bolters onto the place where Garuda was.
Datch in Garuda form spread his wings just before the concentrated barrage of bolts poured down.
He used various ruined facilities as cover and advanced while rolling with minimal movement to avoid exploding bolt fragments and shockwaves.
Every time he changed direction, he accurately seized the gaps between attacks and landed. Furthermore, he somehow managed to throw the grenades he had failed to throw from his claws earlier.
An ear-splitting explosion enveloped the Terminators.
Grenade fragments did not inflict fatal damage on the frontal armour of the Terminator plate, yet the shockwave and smoke from the explosion hindered their advance.
One of them slammed into a collapsed steel pillar behind it, completely collapsing the already unstable steel pillar, and slammed it into another Terminator, killing it instantly.
"Let's go." Sharrowkyn and the others came to themselves.
They did not know why Garuda had suddenly become this powerful, yet now was not the time to think about such things. They had to flee as quickly as possible together with the Primordial Mother.
Before departing, the gene-witch issued an unsealing order.
Gene-monsters produced from failed experiments awoke, destroyed the gene-pods, and, while roaring, assaulted the Sons of Horus.
Unfortunately, the defensive power of Terminator armour was far too strong.
The claws and shell-covered fists of this monster, produced by genetic manipulation, can tear steel, yet ultimately they are no match for adamantium.
The Sons of Horus quickly recovered their posture and tore the genetically manipulated monsters to pieces one after another using heavy bolters and power swords.
After the last genetically manipulated monster was executed, the Sons of Horus noticed that the accursed bird and the Emperor's hunting dogs had vanished.
"Damn it, in the name of Horus we will not let those minions escape from our hands!" one of the Sons of Horus said angrily.
When they tried to pursue, they heard the roar of engines in the air.
When many Sons of Horus looked up, it was the same Thunderhawk gunship that had just dropped them, yet for some reason it was lowering altitude again.
Its nose stared straight at the blazing ruins below; launch ports had been provided in the heavy bomb bays of both wings.
The missiles suspended under the racks shone a cold matte black in the deep-purple light of the nuclear-waste flames.
"What's going on??"
The squad leader was about to ask a question.
An alarm sounded from the helmet. Their targets had been identified by the Thunderhawk's fire-control system.
"Wait a minute, we are…" the eldest Son of Horus shouted toward the comm-channel, urging the other party to stop firing.
Unfortunately, the Thunderhawk gunship's pilot was dead.
Datch, transformed into Garuda form, stood atop the pilot's corpse and looked down on the Sons of Horus on the ground with a mocking gaze.
He used neural cables to access the data interface of the main control panel, enslaved the machine-spirit, and seized control of the gunship.
The next instant gunfire rang out.
From the gunship's hardpoints, explosive shells were fired one after another like a fierce storm.
Each bolt accurately struck the Sons of Horus below, clad in Terminator armour.
The heavy laser cannon mounted on the lower part of the gunship's bow also fired continuously; its thick beam appeared without interruption.
Missiles, trailing pillars of flame, followed immediately behind, sliced the air, and struck the designated places.
The Sons of Horus raised roars of anger, yet those roars were immediately drowned by the rain of falling shells.
Sharrowkyn and his subordinates, fleeing, heard explosion sounds behind them, looked at one another, and were stunned.
Garuda is that powerful — why does it become such a commotion?
However, what surprised them even more was still to come.
Sharrowkyn and the others who escaped the volcano and called Wayland saw multiple flight targets on the horizon. They were all rebel airframes pursuing them.
"Brothers, we've come to pick you up." Wayland's voice rang through the comm-channel.
An aged attack craft appeared before the party at low speed with engines growling.
"Even with a Storm Eagle, we may not be able to withdraw," Sharrowkyn said in a despairing tone, looking at the rapidly approaching rebel aircraft.
"This is the end." The gene-witch quietly sighed.
Just as everyone was crushed by despair, a Thunderhawk gunship flying the emblem of the Sons of Horus appeared from the distance with a roar.
Before the traitors could react, they were bathed in concentrated gunfire.
Boom! Boom!
Two transports were caught off guard, destroyed on the spot, slammed into the ground, and became piles of blazing wreckage.
Then the Sons of Horus' gunship rammed another gunship, and they sank together.
Datch, transformed into Garuda form, flew out from the flames of the exploding gunship and raised a high-pitched cry.
At this sight, people, including Sharrowkyn, were dumbfounded.
This… is such a thing really possible?
Since when did Garuda become that strong?
Not only can it face two Terminator teams alone; it can also pilot a Thunderhawk and participate in combat!
"Come, get up. Don't talk so much." Wayland, suppressing the shock, shouted to Sharrowkyn and the others.
He tried to lower the Storm Eagle's altitude so that Sharrowkyn, the gene-witch, and the others could climb aboard.
When everyone had boarded, he raised the Storm Eagle's altitude and charged toward the Sisypheum in orbit.
A warship painted black and gold named Heir of Cthonia was trying to pursue them.
However, after a while, the warship suddenly stopped; the Sisypheum was able to leave the spot carrying the fleeing survivors.
"We all survived."
Watching the Moon and Earth recede, Sharrowkyn felt a sense of relief as if he had survived a catastrophe.
They had stolen the Primordial Mother before the traitors' eyes. Moreover, not one of them had died. This was a feat that could only be called a miracle.
"No, we lost one comrade," Tarsa said. "Garuda isn't coming back."
"The Heir of Cthonia didn't pursue us? Was that Garuda's doing?" Tarsa asked. "How did it do such a thing? Is that really just a mechanical bird?"
"I don't know either," Brant said bitterly. "But… it definitely saved our lives."
Meanwhile, the bridge of the Heir of Cthonia had become a tragic scene scattered with corpses.
All of this had been done by Garuda, Datch's incarnation, despite not possessing an Astartes body.
However, thanks to Garuda's mobility and sharp claws, he succeeded in assaulting the Heir of Cthonia and hunting the bridge crew.
Of course, he could not be expected to endure an entire ship full of enemies.
Pursued by the enemy, he was finally shot in the head, and his head was blown off.
However, this performance was superior to the previous two.
He succeeded in rescuing the lunar special-operations team that should have been annihilated.
The next time he plays that role, he may be able to save even more people.
The character you are operating has died. A new character is assigned at random.
The new character is a very ordinary conscripted person.
A notification sound rang in Datch's ears; the surrounding darkness vanished again; various noises returned to his ears.
Datch was inside a packed vehicle crammed like sardines and could not move.
Suddenly someone stepped on his foot.
Turning his head, he saw a handsome youth wearing an expression of unease and terror.
Realising he had stepped on someone, the youth immediately apologised to Datch.
"I'm truly sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just that there are too many people."
"It's fine," Datch said while unconsciously tapping the other party's information bar.
Keyan, a conscripted statistician, is a very ordinary, inconspicuous person.
...
Inside the palace, Malcador sat in his study and communicated with the Emperor through the world of dreams.
Because of Horus's invasion, the world of dreams is also filled with danger.
However, the Emperor and Malcador always managed somehow to find a safe place.
This time they met in a cave.
Malcador transformed into a prince clad in a luxurious robe; meanwhile, the Emperor became the figure of an old man barefoot in a tattered robe.
"The situation has changed, Malcador," the old man in the Emperor's form said. "Fate is beginning to leave its orbit."
"What on earth is happening?" Malcador asked in confusion.
"Someone is intervening and constantly carving their own traces into fate. Yet I do not know who it is. They are changing identities one after another," the Emperor said.
"Those four?" Malcador asked carefully. In the world of dreams, one cannot casually reveal those four names.
They can sense things and quickly identify the location.
"No, I don't think so. The other party seems to be disguising their identity, perhaps to avoid the gods' interference," the Emperor said.
"However, in any case, change is a good thing. In this war there were originally only two choices: we win, or the gods win. But now a third option has been born. The gods and we both lose."
"In any case, there are now more variables than before."
"What is the probability that we win?" Malcador asked.
"To be honest, I don't know. Fate is becoming more and more complex. A chaotic storm has blocked the past and the future. Besides, I have to go. The Sixteenth is here again."
The Emperor turned his face and stared at the darkness outside the cave.
They rolled violently; from afar, the terrible howls of wolves could be heard.
Chaos Horus had returned and persistently pursued his father, giving the Emperor no rest whatsoever.
Meanwhile, in the Warp, the gods watched their footholds crumble; despair filled their hearts.
An unidentified organisation is destroying anchor points, yet they cannot find one another's traces at all.
Even if the other party took the same arrogant attitude as before, there is still a possibility of finding a way to hide the anchor points.
And now they do not even know where the nameless ones are or what they are doing.
The only certain thing is that the other side is constantly carving its own traces into the anchor points.
When the final battle between Horus and the Emperor begins, the Emperor will without doubt use these marks to completely reverse the anchor points and thereby change the entire flow of history.
At that time, an unprecedented chaotic storm will smash everything, completely erase the past, and tear apart the very foundation on which the past exists.
...