The battered destroyer slowly approached Holy Terra.
The Motherworld of Humanity, the Throneworld, was becoming clearer in view.
Everyone who had ever visited Terra knew it well — it was a dull yellow sphere, without clouds, greenery, or radiant glow.
It was forever shrouded in gloom, unchanged for millennia.
But now, Terra looked… unfamiliar.
"By the Emperor…"
Arthus and the others grew uneasy. There was a growing sense of dread — this kind of unknown was more terrifying than any trap laid by the Drukhari.
The Deathwatch Captain turned to his adjutant.
"What are the scans showing? Any signs of xenos activity? Are we in the correct timeline?"
If this was a xenos-generated illusion, then he would have to deploy a kill-ship to annihilate such blasphemy.
But there was another possibility.
Temporal turbulence.
The Imperium had records of such phenomena — their ship may have gotten lost in the warp, arriving in an unknown era.
Could this be Terra before the Great Crusade?
"Our sensors show no traces of xenos technology,"
the adjutant replied, scanning his data-slate.
"But the navigation beacon array is damaged. We can't confirm the current spatial node. Do we proceed further?"
He was worried. If their ship entered the airspace without clearance, it might be intercepted… or destroyed.
"That's a problem…"
Arthus furrowed his brows. If they had indeed landed in the wrong timeline, the consequences could be severe.
He thought with the mindset of a loyal Imperial:
The Imperium had never been gentle with lost souls — imprisonment and interrogation would be lenient, burning at the stake as heretics was more common.
Maybe they could use a kill-team ship to infiltrate discreetly?
A common tactic of the Deathwatch — they could enter covertly, perform assassinations or sabotage…
Or even annihilate the entire planet.
However — before Arthus could decide, the destroyer was suddenly locked by anti-air radar.
There was no hiding now.
As the team braced themselves, a soft female voice rang out over comms:
"Warriors of the Deathwatch, welcome home to the cradle of humanity. Please follow the designated approach corridor to the spaceport.
Per new regulation, your ship has been assigned an entry code: SWⅣ1347413...
A kind reminder: Holy Terra is now under traffic control measures and a license-plate restriction system to alleviate congestion and reduce atmospheric pollution.
Your private ship falls within the restricted class and is not permitted to enter the atmosphere.
Please utilize public transportation to reach your destination. Thank you for your cooperation."
Phase I of the 11.5th Terra Reconstruction Initiative had just concluded.
The Machine Goddess had integrated all data from Terra into the psy-network.
The Deathwatch — being an important military order — had already been indexed.
The Lion's Gate Spaceport's radar systems and air traffic personnel could easily identify their vessel.
The Primarch of Hope — the Savior — had dispatched billions of clerks and attendants from his domain into Terra's various systems to train personnel and advance the new order.
In the process… Terra began to look more and more like the Savior's domain.
???
Arthus and his men were stunned. Their minds buzzed in confusion.
Wasn't airspace control on Terra supposed to be handled by servitors?
Some of the terms the voice used made absolutely no sense.
"Is this… really Holy Terra?"
Arthus asked reflexively — then corrected himself:
"I mean, what year in the Imperial Calendar is this?"
The woman in charge of air traffic control responded patiently:
"Warrior of the Deathwatch, I understand your confusion. You are on Holy Terra. The current date is 80.M42.
The Great Savior and the Lord Regent of the Imperium have reshaped the Throneworld.
I will now send you a data packet with relevant information to help you adjust to the new environment.
This communication will end shortly. Please proceed to your designated port to avoid traffic congestion…"
Their worn destroyer pierced some form of atmospheric barrier and followed the guidance corridor toward the spaceport.
Only then did the Deathwatch realize — the airspace was packed.
There were countless vessels from other Imperial worlds and even the Adeptus Mechanicus — including enormous cargo ships.
The light from their hulls glittered in the void like stars, illuminating the night sky.
They had never seen a spaceport this bustling.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Fireworks exploded in space.
Giant honor banners drifted weightlessly — faintly, they could make out the words "Victory" and "Savior."
Remnants of the recent celebration. The main event had ended two weeks ago.
News of the new order was now spreading across the Imperium.
Arthus and the others paused.
The dazzling scene relaxed their guard ever so slightly.
Maybe… this really was Holy Terra.
And maybe the Savior and the Lord Regent had truly transformed the Throneworld.
They too had heard of the Primarch of Hope — the Savior — and the legendary feats he had accomplished.
"Adjutant, did you download the platform's data packet?"
Arthus asked.
The ship was nearing the port — they'd be disembarking soon. Certain forbidden protocols or laws might need to be known in advance.
"We received it," the adjutant said bitterly, "but those damned Drukhari damaged our comm systems — we can't extract the contents!"
"Keep working on it. Send it to me once it's decrypted."
Arthus didn't wait — he led the kill-team toward the disembarkation hatch.
"Bring the trophies. We're reporting to the Inquisition. Stay alert."
He still harbored doubts. Caution was never wrong.
The kill-team wore jet-black power armor adorned with various exotic weapons —
Necron phase sabers and gauss blasters in sickly green, dark matter spears from the Drukhari, disintegrator rifles…
They were exempt from sacred restrictions — able to wield forbidden weapons without being censured or excommunicated.
Click.
Heavy mechanical restraints locked onto two warriors' vambraces, attaching to black containment coffers that pulsed faintly with psy-energy.
Each man carried one of the cases.
Inside were their mission spoils: modified spirit stones and shards of opaline soulstone.
They had seized them from brutal gladiatorial pits at the edge of Commorragh — the Drukhari city — before escaping the Webway and returning to the Imperium.
But that wasn't their true prize.
The most valuable asset was intelligence — details on Commorragh and its supreme overlord, Asdrubael Vect, the Master of the Black Heart Kabal.
The fate of the Imperium could depend on it.
Such information could only be submitted to a High Inquisitor — or above.
Because of the "license restriction," the Deathwatch shuttle was denied atmospheric entry.
They had to walk to the space elevator instead — then take the elevator down to the surface.
Once they disembarked, the port's chaos overwhelmed them.
Tens of thousands bustled through the vast halls — and the unfamiliar architecture left them disoriented.
"Without that intel packet, we're going to be lost…"
Arthus muttered.
They might need to ask someone for help — or waste hours fumbling around.
Bzzt~
A servo-skull floated toward them:
"Personnel from Deathwatch vessel SWⅣ134... Do you require guidance or a map interface?"
Arthus raised an eyebrow at the overly intelligent machine spirit.
"Yes. Show me a route to the Inquisition."
The servo-skull's optical lens flared.
A mechanical wire extended from the back of its head, drifting in the air.
"Service confirmed. Please provide data interface."
The wire slotted into the captain's vambrace, transferring a data package.
"Service complete. Enjoy your journey."
The skull retracted its wire and zipped off toward another vessel.
Many more of its kind floated overhead, offering assistance to incoming visitors.
For special requests, they could even provide full tour-guide services —
Though those required Throne-Coins.
Following the newly uploaded map, Arthus led the team toward the space elevator.
Thankfully, the megastructure's design hadn't changed much — they found it quickly.
Inside the elevator cabin…
"F****! Y*! I protest! This is discrimination! The Mechanicus forums can't treat us like this!"
The vocoder spat out an Imperial curse.
The Deathwatch looked up, surprised.
Two Tech-Priests stood nearby — one wore robes lined with colorful anime-style Mechanicus insignia — clearly hardcore Machine Cult otaku.
The one in black robes was practically glowing red from rage.
"All the gear I sacrificed! The Forge World of Orville deserves recognition from the Savior himself!"
He looked like he was about to cry.
When the Savior had issued a rallying call on the Mechanicus forums…
This Magos had abandoned his work and rushed to Terra.
He wasn't just after the mountain of Cog-Coins and computing resources…
His real target had been that ultra-rare limited-edition Mechanicus waifu badge.
He had spent years collecting every single model — missing just that one.
Unfortunately, the reforms had concluded too quickly.
Many fellow tech-otaku arrived too late — the rally had ended, and the prizes were gone.
They were not happy.
Seeing this, the Primarch of Hope — the Savior — had no choice but to make an exception and continue issuing the promised rewards, finally appeasing those maniacs.
They returned, satisfied and delighted.
This event had continued for years, only recently concluding.
And it had caused a complete breakdown for the Magos from Forge World Orville.
Though he had departed early, his Mechanicus Ark was jostled by a warp storm, delaying his arrival.
Even the follow-up compensation rewards eluded him.
"That's right! We must find the Savior himself!"
shouted another Tech-Priest in grey robes, clearly sharing his pain.
He hadn't been delayed by the warp — no, it was the fault of some idiotic xenos ambush.
Now, this Magos hated the xenos with a vengeance, already plotting to sail his Mechanicus Ark straight into their world and obliterate it using forbidden relics.
Arthus watched these two lunatic tech-priests, struggling to comprehend their fashion sense and behavior.
Ten years in the Webway had left him alienated —
The outside world had changed far too much.
Everything that had once felt eternal and immutable now seemed strange and foreign.
"Hey, you big black-armored fellow! You're Deathwatch, right?"
The grey-robed Magos called out, proposing an offer:
"Are you open for hire? I've got a xenos nest that needs cleansing — burn their world to ash for me!"
Arthus had no intention of arguing with lunatic engineers — nor offending them.
He firmly declined:
"Apologies, Magos of the Mechanicus. We do not accept missions outside the authority of the Inquisition."
"Think carefully," the grey-robed Magos added enticingly.
"My forge can provide your kill-team with new weapons, Terminator armor, or even cutting-edge xenos weaponry."
The offer was… substantial.
Arthus hesitated.
Even his kill-team exchanged glances — everyone knew these tech-freaks had access to the Imperium's finest resources and most advanced forges.
Even a High Lord of the Inquisition would be tempted.
Arthus swallowed hard.
"Magos… perhaps I could speak to the Inquisition, see if there's any leeway..."
But by then, the two tech-priests weren't even looking at him anymore.
"Check the Mechanicus forums! The Savior just posted a new announcement — the limited edition badge has a new distribution method to make up for late arrivals!"
The red-robed Magos lit up with joy — all trace of rage gone.
As long as there was a way to obtain it, it wasn't a problem.
"Praise the Omnissiah!"
The grey-robed Magos echoed the sentiment.
After landing via the space elevator, the two Magi immediately rushed off toward the registration terminal.
"Magos, wait…"
Arthus tried calling out to his would-be benefactors, but they were already gone — boosted by mechanical relics, vanished without a trace.
He could only give up and continue to the Inquisition.
Soon, the Deathwatch warriors followed the map directions and squeezed into the High-Speed Titan Transit headed for the Inquisitorial Hall.
...
Inside the carriage.
Arthus and his kill-team couldn't find seats.
They stood alert in formation by the handrails, watching everything with wary eyes —
While around them bustled thousands of Imperial clerks and administrators heading to various departments.
Some carried Nafaal bread, others Stag-beast milk, and many were tapping away on dataslates or speaking via comm-beads to colleagues — all deeply engrossed in their bureaucratic toil.
Compared to the past, this was actually a relatively relaxed pace for the civil service drones.
The Deathwatch looked wildly out of place.
BOOM BOOM BOOM—
A deep rumble echoed from outside.
Arthus glanced through the viewing slit — and was dumbfounded.
Massive red banners hung from the hive spires, emblazoned with slogans like:
"Accelerate Hive Reconstruction — Build a Beautiful Terra Together!"
"In the Name of the Emperor — Construct Safely!"
The noble houses of Terra had long indulged in all kinds of companionships.
Some ancient bloodlines even practiced incest to preserve their lineage.
Often, it led to mutants — or worse, chaotic abominations.
Eden had already instructed the Ministry of Oversight to begin investigating and addressing these practices.
He wanted the flow of power and blood to open outward, not stagnate and decay.
Shifting his posture comfortably against the headboard, Eden grabbed a nearby dataslate.
Time to scroll.
First, he browsed the daily news bulletins from Terra.
Then he checked the stats for the limited-edition Mechanicus badge —
He wanted to see how many resources this campaign had netted.
In principle, limited editions weren't supposed to "return"…
But the tech-heads had made such a fuss.
So he, the Savior, had made a "blasphemous" decision.
Truth be told — the 11.5th Terra Reconstruction Initiative had cost far more than expected.
He was feeling the sting — and the wealthy tech-fanatics had practically thrown themselves at his feet.
He had to trim some fat.
Besides — it was a win-win.
Some of the limited badges were now worth as much as a battleship — and the tech-heads still flocked to them, fanatically grateful.
They worshipped him for it.
And truthfully, the badges weren't purely cosmetic —
They granted access to high-tier supercomputing resources — invaluable during critical research.
But most of these fanatics only cared about the badge itself.
Just this one "gacha" campaign had covered the reconstruction budget entirely.
Those tech-priests were stingy about everything except this.
"Maybe I should do more re-skinned badge variants…
Add some special effects, a voiced version of the Machine Goddess?"
Eden chuckled.
"Throw in a gacha pull system, guarantee a rare drop at 100 rolls…
Hmm… would that be too much?
They are supposed to be devotees of the Machine Goddess, after all…"
But his joy was short-lived.
Suddenly, he received terrible news:
The central hub of the Webway transit system had been attacked!
"F***!!"
Eden nearly blacked out from rage.
That was the core nexus of his galactic trade network — an infrastructure project he had poured twenty years of investment into!
The future of the Imperium!
His hands trembled as he continued reading.
A forbidden dark-matter weapon had detonated near the hub —
Creating a localized black hole, collapsing the surrounding space.
One-third of the structure was obliterated.
Thankfully, the Webway itself was intact.
Initial forensics pointed to one culprit:
The Kabal of the Black Heart, the ruling cabal of Commorragh.
Over the years, the Savior's forces had clashed with Drukhari while expanding Webway branches.
Some lines had even been sabotaged.
The Drukhari had millennia of experience in the Webway —
They knew it better than anyone.
And back then, Eden had prioritized the reformation of Terra, holding back resources.
He hadn't expected the Drukhari to be this bold —
They had struck his core nexus.
"Alright… digging into my nest, huh…"
Eden exhaled sharply.
This would have to be resolved — fast.
Otherwise, how could he sleep at night, knowing a cabal of sadistic xenos armed with Old One and Aeldari tech was hunting him?
An eye for an eye.
It was time to strike Commorragh itself.
Soon, the Xenos Inquisition received a direct order from the Savior:
Submit all known data on the Drukhari — immediately.
...
Several days later…
Eden sat reviewing the compiled dossiers.
Included among them:
The latest Deathwatch intelligence report.
According to the Deathwatch:
Commorragh's supreme overlord, Asdrubael Vect, was embroiled in brutal infighting among the aristocracy.
This had fractured the Kabal's control — more regions had declared independence and begun attacking Imperial lanes and port nodes.
"Hmm… a perfect chance to strike while they're weak…"
Eden narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
This Deathwatch report brought someone to mind —
A warrior who could swim through warp storms and xenos hordes alike…
"The Xenos Inquisition should have a warrior named Titus.
Bring him before me — at once."
The Savior's voice brooked no refusal.
(End of Chapter)
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