On a world smothered in concrete and despair, Nyth strolled through the grimy streets of Terra like a tourist at a sideshow. The once-vibrant cradle of humanity had turned into a husk of stone and steel. Here, amid the dust and decay, people scurried about like ants, shadows of their former selves, all eyes cast down, burdened by fear, faith, or fatigue.
"Helluva place to put all that faith in," Nyth muttered, tipping his hat at a passing servitor whose mechanical whirring was the only sound in the bleak silence. "Guess a man just can't buy sense."
The sight of Terra amused and irked him in equal measure. Even with the return of their so-called "Avenging Son," this world was a monument to stagnation, a shrine to despair masquerading as devotion. His molten-gold gaze swept over the broken spires and polluted skies, taking in the full scope of the Imperium's 'holy' world.
With a shrug, he turned toward the most wretched corner of Terra, a place long abandoned to the ravages of radiation and decay, where no green thing had grown in millennia. Nyth stepped into the wasteland, the stench of rot and ruin thick around him. He knelt, digging his fingers into the tainted soil, and with a flicker of cosmic power, he planted a single seed.
A grin crossed his face as he whispered, "Alright, Terra, let's see what you got left in ya."
The soil trembled, and then, impossibly, a single green shoot broke the surface. Within moments, it blossomed into a vibrant jungle, the ground surging with life. Trees as tall as the ancient world-trees of yore rose, their trunks thick and knotted, while vines draped down like green waterfalls, and bright, alien flowers bloomed in colors unseen on Terra for eons.
The jungle spread outward, devouring the wasteland, purifying the soil, the air, everything it touched. It grew with an untamed, primal energy, each leaf and petal defying the pollution, the radiation, the ruin. Around him, flora flourished, defying the impossible.
People gathered on the outskirts of the massive world city where the jungle now boarders, eyes wide, drawn to the miracle in their desolate world. Priests, civilians, even the occasional tech-priest, gawked at the lush green spilling across the landscape. Nyth, grinning at their shock, tipped his hat as he strolled out of the jungle, the vibrant greenery untouched by any force of mankind.
"For you, Terra, not these poor bastards," he murmured, glancing back at the city-sized jungle pulsing with life and vitality. No radiation, no pollution, and most importantly—no tech, fire, or tool could harm it.
As he walked, the crowds fell back, whispers rippling through the throngs of citizens. Some dropped to their knees, taking him for some sort of divine apparition. A priest, decked in robes of red and gold, stepped forward, eyes filled with awe and terror.
"Who… what are you?" the priest stammered, clutching his relic-filled staff as if it might provide some protection.
Nyth smirked, twirling the brim of his hat. "Just a passerby, reckon I wanted to leave a little somethin' pretty in this junkyard y'all call Terra."
The priest fell silent, eyes wide as Nyth vanished from view, leaving only the miraculous jungle as his calling card.