Led by [Kingslayer Luna Wolf Horus], the five hundred Chaos players slipped out of the F-17 plaza lounge without making a sound.
They split up into dozens of smaller squads, navigating the labyrinthine interior corridors of the Crimson Drake Gate, sneaking toward their designated drop zones.
None of them noticed what was happening right above their heads...
In the Crimson Drake Gate's internal security system, every single one of their black-colored IDs was clearly flagged.
Every single movement they made was being tracked in real-time.
--
Inside a secure command post.
On a massive holographic display, five hundred red dots crawled slowly toward the outer edges of the Crimson Drake Gate.
[God-Tier Mechanic] leaned back in his chair, a cup of locally brewed Aurelian coffee in hand. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips.
"Interesting," he murmured, keeping his eyes locked on the swarm of red dots. "These new players are certainly creative."
"A palm strike from the heavens..." He shook his head, unable to hold back a chuckle. "The kid's got a talent for naming things."
Beside him, a second-wave Crimson Dawn player named [I Ain't Healing You] leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Mechanic, should we make our move now?"
"We could ambush them at the drop zones and bag the whole lot in one go."
[God-Tier Mechanic] waved him off.
"No need."
He set his coffee mug down, his gaze growing distant.
"Let them jump."
[I Ain't Healing You] blinked in surprise. "But Mechanic, what if they actually make it down there and start wrecking the place...?"
[God-Tier Mechanic] shot him a helpless look that screamed, you're still too green.
"Do you know what things were like back when we first spawned into this world?"
He spoke slowly, his voice carrying the weight of old memories.
"The Aru Pharmaceutical Group."
"Those capitalist scumbags who treated us like literal slaves."
"The absolute human garbage who forced us to work sixteen-hour shifts while feeding us synthetic nutrient paste."
[I Ain't Healing You] fell silent for a few seconds.
He knew that history.
Every new player who joined Crimson Dawn was taught that history.
It was the origin story of their faction. The exact spot where the spark of the Dawn was first ignited.
[God-Tier Mechanic] continued.
"We were locked up. We couldn't log off. We lived every single day in absolute terror."
"Countless players were butchered and chopped to pieces for genetic experiments."
"We genuinely thought we were going to die on this rock."
"That shared trauma was the biggest reason we were able to unite with such iron resolve after we broke out. That experience forced us to see this dark, twisted universe for what it really was."
"It drove us right up until the moment we took total control of Aurelian."
The corner of his mouth ticked up into a meaningful, razor-sharp smile.
"Right up until those nobles and corporate elites—the ones who thought they owned the world—were blown sky-high by our artillery, and the flames started consuming their bodies!"
"Only then did they understand the meaning of..."
"...true annihilation."
He turned his head back to the red dots swarming the holographic display.
"So, let them jump."
"Let them hit the atmosphere of Aurelian."
"Let them think they actually pulled it off."
His voice dropped, turning as cold as the void itself.
"Because once they get down there..."
"...they'll find out real quick that this planet isn't a place they can just run wild."
--
Meanwhile, in Dawn City, at the base of the orbital elevator.
When the colossal, thirty-meter-tall blast doors slowly ground open, both Guilliman and Sanguinius froze in their tracks.
Instead of the cavernous, empty transit hall they were expecting...
They were met with a sea of people.
A densely packed crowd stretched from the immediate plaza all the way to the horizon.
They were dressed in clean, neat clothes, and every face wore a bright, genuine smile.
In their hands, they waved the banners of Crimson Dawn: a rising sun breaking the horizon, resting above a stalk of wheat, a cogwheel, and the stars.
The moment the two Primarchs stepped through the doors, a soaring melody drifted up from the crowd.
It was a song Guilliman had never heard before.
The melody was beautiful, carrying an overwhelming, indescribable sense of... hope.
"Say goodbye before the dawn..."
"Smiling with a tear-stained face..."
"Go welcome the better tomorrow... that you deserve..."
The singing grew louder, the voices harmonizing in perfect unison.
Soon, the voices of hundreds of thousands of citizens merged into a surging tide of sound that echoed relentlessly through the skies of Dawn City.
Guilliman was stunned.
Sanguinius was equally speechless.
Behind them, the high command of their respective Legions stood rooted to the spot.
Azkaellon's mouth hung slightly open.
Even Marius Gage, a man whose face was normally carved from stone, looked utterly completely bewildered.
And through Promus's psychic senses, the emotional resonance layered within that singing was undeniable.
It wasn't forced.
It wasn't a mandatory, performative display.
It came straight from the heart.
It was genuine, unadulterated... gratitude.
As the song slowly faded out, a master of ceremonies stepped forward with a loud-hailer, his voice booming with passion.
"Citizens of Aurelian!!"
"The two Primarchs who entrusted this world to Crimson Dawn, who laid the foundation for our happy lives..."
"...have graced our planet once again!!"
His voice thundered across the plaza, reaching every single ear.
"Let them hear your warmest, most passionate cheers..."
"Welcome them back!!"
The instant the words left his mouth, the entire plaza erupted.
"Lord Guilliman!!"
"Lord Sanguinius!!"
The unified roar of hundreds of thousands of people hit them like a physical wave, vibrating the very air in their lungs.
There was no sycophancy in those cheers.
No underlying terror.
Just pure, heartfelt gratitude and joy.
Guilliman let his gaze sweep across the endless sea of unfamiliar faces.
He could feel it...
These people were truly happy to see them.
They were truly thankful.
Thankful that, twenty-three years ago, the Primarchs had handed the reins of this world over to Crimson Dawn.
A slow, steady smile crept onto Guilliman's face.
It was a subtle expression, but it came from the bottom of his heart.
The massive crowd naturally parted, forming a wide corridor leading deep into the plaza.
On both sides of the path, the citizens continued to cheer, wave, and proudly fly their crimson banners.
And standing at the very end of that corridor was a group of children.
They were dressed in brand-new clothes—stylish, well-tailored, and brightly colored.
Every single child wore a bright, innocent, ear-to-ear grin.
Guilliman's footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second.
He recognized the style of those clothes.
Twenty-three years ago, when he first set foot on Aurelian, he had been greeted by a group of children as well.
Back then, the clothes those kids wore were clean, but they were little more than patched-up rags.
But now...
These children were wearing clothes that were brand new, beautiful, and crafted with genuine care.
Guilliman looked at the children, his gaze eventually lifting to rest on the figure standing just in front of them.
It was a young woman.
She wore a crisp, tailored professional suit, her long hair draped over her shoulders, and a sweet, radiant smile on her face.
Looking at her face, Guilliman was struck by a sudden, inexplicable sense of... familiarity.
The young woman stepped forward to meet the two Primarchs. She looked back at the kids and spoke softly.
"Children, these are the greatest benefactors our world has ever known."
The children immediately shouted in unison, their voices crisp and loud:
"Welcome to Aurelian, Your Graces!!"
"We hope you make wonderful memories here in Aurelian!!"
The young woman pulled two bouquets of fresh flowers from behind her back. Holding them respectfully in both hands, she stepped right up to Guilliman and Sanguinius.
She handed a bouquet to each Primarch, offering them a bright, incredibly sweet smile.
"Big Uncle, welcome back to Aurelian for your inspection."