Aurelian IV.
Deep beneath the Kent Hive, before the heavy doors of Dawn's Slumbering Palace.
Paul stood before the massive alloy bulkhead. Bathed in the palace's ambient lighting, his towering three-point-eight-eight-meter frame cast a long, imposing shadow.
Twenty-three years of time had allowed him to grow into a colossus that rivaled the Primarchs in stature. Faint veins of energy pulsed across the surface of his golden Aquilon Terminator armor. His helmet was off, revealing a resolute, stoic Eastern face.
The most striking feature about him was his eyes. Deep within his dark golden irises, five minuscule stars slowly orbited in a constant, mesmerizing trajectory. They were the physical manifestations of his five core traits: Hope, Compassion, Resolve, Pioneering, and Wisdom. What was once just a single pentagram with five points had now fully evolved into five distinct, radiant stars.
"Brother."
A soft, feminine voice called out from behind him.
Paul turned, watching the figure slowly approach. Helovia Elnor.
The eleven-year-old girl he had saved on the wasteland all those years ago had blossomed into a tall, elegant young woman standing at one point seven-six meters. She wore a custom-crafted suit of silver power armor. Its lines were sleek and graceful, the surface etched with intricate psychic runes. Her waist-length silver hair caught the dim palace light with a faint, ethereal sheen. Her deep, emerald-green eyes were clear, reflecting a maturity and wisdom that went far beyond her years.
In her hand, she gripped a silver staff. It was the very same Magical Girl Transformation Device used to purge the Greater Daemon of Tzeentch, Aetaos'rau'keres, twenty-three years ago. Paul had since modified and upgraded it, transforming the wand into a multi-purpose holy relic capable of psychic amplification, reality-structure stabilization, and long-range hyper-communication.
"Helovia." A gentle smile tugged at the corner of Paul's mouth. "Are you ready?"
"I've been ready." Helovia stepped up beside him, gazing up at the tightly sealed door. "Uncle Cage, Uncle Tax, Brother White Scars, Brother Blood Angel... and over four thousand other aunts, uncles, brothers, and sisters... they've been asleep for twenty-three years. When they wake up and see what Aurelian IV looks like today, do you think they'll be completely shocked?"
Paul followed her gaze, a complex swirl of emotions in his eyes.
"Oh, they'll be shocked, alright," he said softly. "While I was gone all these years, you somehow managed to run the entire planet flawlessly... Thank you for your hard work, Helovia."
"It wasn't hard work." Helovia shook her head, her silver hair swaying. "It was the Crimson Dawn that brought hope, a better life, and real change to this world. I merely... carried out the ideals everyone left behind. It's just a shame we didn't have more time. Given another ten years, the fleets of Aurelian IV could have sailed out of this solar system and conquered the entire Korianis Sector. It would have been a surprise for everyone waking up."
Hearing this, Paul simply shook his head.
"Right now, our territory is vast enough." His voice was deep and stern. "In this universe, bigger isn't always better. Especially with what's coming next... Besides, they might not even want you to conquer the entire sector. The logistics of managing it would be an absolute nightmare. Did you forget how frantically busy they were in the days right before they went into stasis?"
Paul smiled, and Helovia returned it with a sweet smile of her own.
"Brother," Helovia asked softly. "What exactly have you been so worried about all these years? The people of Aurelian are finally living without fear of cold or starvation. Everyone is fed, everyone has access to education, and everyone has a path forward in life. The transportation networks across Aurelian IV are highly developed and unobstructed. We've conquered the towering mountains and tamed the turbulent, polluted rivers. Even the lethal radiation that once plagued us has been completely purged and dissipated. Our armies, our fleets, our industrial base... they are more than a hundred times stronger than they were twenty-three years ago."
Paul fell silent for a few seconds. He reached out, gently resting his massive hand on top of Helovia's head. It was just like twenty-three years ago out on the wasteland, when he had knelt down to comfort the little girl crying in the freezing wind.
"Helovia, do you know why the Emperor launched the Great Crusade?"
"To unite humanity, expel the xenos, and reclaim lost territories..."
"Then why is the Great Crusade destined to fail?"
Helovia froze.
Paul retracted his hand, turning to gaze deep into the palace at the more than four thousand stasis pods.
"Because the Emperor is in too much of a hurry," he said slowly. "He wants to achieve in a mere two hundred years an integration that should take humanity millennia to complete. He ignores the sheer complexity of human nature, glosses over regional differences, and disregards cultural divides... Most importantly, He underestimates the entities residing within the Warp. Oh, He acknowledges and guards against the Warp itself, but He has never truly taken precautions against the beings that inhabit it. He enforces the Imperial Truth, declaring a universe entirely devoid of gods. Yet, His very existence is god-like, blazing like a sun in the eyes of all who behold Him. Furthermore, He is appallingly negligent of the feelings of His demigod sons. He created these Primarchs, gifting them with unparalleled, god-like power, but He never once considered fulfilling the duties of a father—providing them with emotional companionship or validation. Instead, He treats them merely as tools. Tools forged solely to conquer the galaxy. Eventually, He will suffer the inevitable backlash from these demigod sons, which is exactly why His Great Crusade is doomed to fail. The Chaos Gods of the Warp will not sit idly by and watch a united, powerful, and rational Imperium of Man rise. They will infiltrate, corrupt, and divide... destroying everything from the inside out."
Paul's voice echoed through the cavernous hall.
"The path our Crimson Dawn is currently walking... in a sense, it is the exact opposite of the Emperor's. We don't blindly chase rapid expansion or vastly sprawling territories. What we must do is cultivate deep roots. We need to forge a single planet—a single sector—into an impenetrable iron fortress, establishing a truly solid bastion for human civilization within this dark universe. Only then, when the storm finally breaks, will we have the right to say... that we can actually protect something."
Helovia listened quietly.
After a long while, she looked up, a resolute light gleaming in her deep green eyes.
"I understand." She clenched her fists, saying nothing more aloud. But deep in her heart, she whispered, Brother, you can rest easy. The me of today... I possess enough power to protect all of you.
A faint aura of psychic energy flashed across her body.
The Aurelian Planetary Council and the Aurelian Dawn Army will safeguard the Crimson Dawn. We will protect this planet and this star system, she thought, her grip tightening on the silver staff. Whether we face the Chaos of the Warp, xenos, or even... the fleets of the Imperium.
Paul slowly turned back to face the alloy bulkhead. A holographic screen gradually materialized before his eyes. It was the system interface, displaying a ticking countdown...
The countdown ticked away. Paul took a deep breath.
"It's time," he said softly.
A look of pleasant surprise lit up Helovia's face. She stepped forward, nodding as she raised her staff. Silvery psychic radiance flowed from the tip of the wand, spreading toward the alloy bulkhead like a living entity. The energy conduits began to hum, and under the infusion of her psychic power, the door lit up with streaks of white light. Finally, with a deafening rumble that broke a twenty-three-year silence, the massive alloy bulkhead slowly began to open.
Paul slammed his right fist against his left breastplate, the golden Aquilon Terminator armor emitting a dull, heavy thud. He closed his eyes and silently chanted in his heart...
Welcome back. My comrades.
--
The Warp. Domain of Lucian, Spire Of Hope.
Lucian stood on the observatory of the high tower, three colossal screens of light hovering in the air before him.
The first screen displayed a real-time distribution map of the one hundred thousand second-beta players. Countless motes of light were scattered across the galaxy like stars. Some were clustered within Imperial fleets. Others lay dormant on fringe worlds, and a small fraction... was currently descending upon the various corners of Aurelian IV.
The second screen showed the stabilized faction data streams: Imperium of Man 44.3%, Freedom Chaos 39.1%, Crimson Dawn 16.6%.
The third screen, however, was an incredibly complex star map. Dozens of critical nodes were marked on it... Macragge, Terra, Calth, Ullanor, Prospero, Istvaan III... and the single most important temporal anchor point: 005.M31, Davin.
"Five years left..." Lucian murmured to himself.
His gaze fell upon the coordinates of Aurelian IV. Right now, that planet was like a meticulously polished pearl, radiating a warm, crimson light into the pitch-black void of the universe. Twenty-three years of deep cultivation, nourished by the emotional energy of twenty-nine billion souls, had expanded His domain several times over. It had allowed Him to grow from a fragile, newborn Evil God into a genuine lesser deity. But it wasn't enough. Not even close.
"The four Chaos Gods, the Emperor, the Primarchs, Xenos, Aeldari, Necrons..." Lucian recited the names. Each one represented a terrifying existence fully capable of crushing everything He had worked for.
"But this time, there are a hundred thousand new variables on the board." He looked at the flickering lights on the first screen. "These consciousnesses from Earth—souls brimming with modern knowledge, wild imaginations, chaotic unpredictability, and boundless creativity, all armed with items redeemed from the game shop—have now been dropped into every corner of this grimdark universe. They will fight, build, betray, and stay loyal. Most importantly... they will think, question, and carve out their own unique paths."
"This is the true meaning of the Fourth Scourge," Lucian said, a smirk playing at the corners of His mouth. "It's not about having endless troops or an absolutely subservient will... It's about possibilities. Infinite possibilities blooming simultaneously across the galaxy. Being immortal and indestructible isn't even their greatest advantage. If we're just talking about immortality, both the daemon hordes of Chaos and the Emperor's Legion of the Damned far surpass these players. But these players possess a fundamental spark of spirituality that those daemons and damned legionnaires could never hope to match. They have limitless potential for growth, and they know the future and the deepest secrets of this world. Even though my system restrictions prevent them from revealing future events to any soul native to the Warhammer universe, this knowledge remains an unparalleled advantage for themselves."
He raised a hand, His fingertip lightly tapping the empty air. The sun of hope at the core of the domain suddenly flared with brilliance. Its warm light transcended dimensions, spilling over specific coordinates in the material universe.
It was a small, parting gift for the players who had chosen the Crimson Dawn faction and the natives of Aurelian IV... Upon their arrival, they would receive a Blessing of Hope. It would grant them immunity to Warp corruption and a minor buff to their learning speed during their acclimatization period. It wouldn't make them instantly overpowered. But at the very least... it would help them survive the initial danger zone. It gave them a chance to witness the dawn on Aurelian IV, a chance to truly comprehend the sheer weight behind the path they had chosen.
"As for those who chose the Imperium and Chaos..." Lucian's gaze deepened. "They'll just have to rely on their own skills. In this universe, every path demands a toll. The glory of the Imperium is forged in blood, the freedom of Chaos is bought with souls, and the path of the Dawn... must be carved out with the sweat and lives of generation after generation. This light of hope was earned by the people of Aurelian over twenty-three years, paid for with the youth and sweat of an entire generation. That's only fair, isn't it?"
The exact moment the countdown hit zero, Lucian felt a massive emotional tremor ripple outward from the material universe. It was the collective shockwave of one hundred thousand consciousnesses logging in simultaneously—a torrential tide blending surprise, confusion, excitement, terror, and rabid curiosity.
After being filtered and purified by the system, this tidal wave transformed into the purest form of energy, flooding into the domain to nourish His essence—that dazzling sun of hope. Lucian closed His eyes and spread His arms wide. At that moment, the borders of the domain expanded outward by a seemingly insignificant fraction. But for an entity of the Warp, there was no such thing as "insignificant" growth. Every single drop of accumulated power was paving the way for a future qualitative evolution.
"The game to burn the galaxy has begun." Lucian opened His eyes, a streak of divine, golden radiance flowing deep within His pupils. "And this time... I am taking every single Primarch I can get my hands on. Since you refuse to teach your sons, Emperor, I'll turn them into Sons of Hope. They will fight for the true dawn and hope of humanity."
--
Goal = 900 Powerstones.
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