Two weeks of the term, a period that had been carefully planned and orchestrated, finally drew to its conclusion. Yet, in that brief span, the Japanese and Falmartian delegations managed to quench their thirst for knowledge and satisfy their curiosity in ways they had never dreamed possible.
The Imperium of Man proved to be a realm of boundless wonder, where the limits of human potential seemed but a distant memory. Those two weeks, fleeting as they were, became a treasure trove of enlightenment for the visitors. Within the gilded halls of the Imperial Palace, they glimpsed luxuries and advancements so far removed from their understanding that it bordered on divinity.
For the Japanese delegation, the future was no longer an abstract concept but a reality vividly displayed before their eyes. The miracles they witnessed defied even the wildest imaginations of modern humanity. Technological marvels, weapons of staggering power, and achievements that blurred the line between man and god. When they learned of the Third Galactic War, they were left in awe—not just at the sheer scale of the conflict but at humanity's resilience and triumph against odds that seemed insurmountable. Despite its size as a galactic civilization, the Imperium's technological might and mastery of reality left an indelible impression, a testament to humanity's capacity to endure and ascend.
For the Falmartians, the experience was equally transformative but carried with it a heavier burden. Save for Lelei and Rory, their time was spent in the Sigillate's museum, accompanied by none other than Malcador the Sigillite himself. The tour, though illuminating, was anything but pleasant. Each exhibit, each whispered truth, bore down on them like the weight of a collapsing world, reminding them of the responsibilities they now carried—for their nations, their people, and their future.
Lelei, however, walked a different path. Her journey was one of unparalleled discovery. The days she spent within the Librarium and the classes she attended were unlike anything she had ever experienced. With access to forbidden tomes and guided by the wisdom of Prospero's masters, her magical prowess ascended to uncharted heights. Thanks to Prospero's mastery over time itself, the two weeks granted to her were stretched into over two months of study. Her joy knew no bounds, particularly under the mentorship of a couple who welcomed her as if she were family, nurturing her growth and treating her as one of their own.
As for Rory, words failed to capture her transformation. The Emperor had summoned her to countless private audiences, and each session chipped away at the foundation of her faith. The truths he revealed were profound and undeniable, reshaping her understanding of the divine. The Emperor's vision of humanity's ascension—a dream he shared with her—was a masterpiece of beauty and purpose, leaving her deeply moved and irrevocably changed.
Now, as the delegations prepared to leave, a profound sense of disappointment lingered among them. The breathtaking sights of Terra and the luxuries of the Imperium had taken root in their hearts. Yet, duty called, and they could not remain. With heavy hearts and newfound resolve, they readied themselves to return to their respective worlds, forever marked by the wonders—and the burdens—they had encountered.
The Imperial Palace was alive with the jubilation of millions, a vast sea of humanity spilling across its grand spires and walls, their cheers echoing across the Eternity Wall. Beyond the colossal gates, even more gathered in celebration, organic and silicon lives intertwined in a unified display of victory.
It was a momentous day—the Grandeur Day of Victory—marking humanity's triumph over the Aeldari Dominion, securing their place as the apex species of the galaxy. A victory not merely of arms but of destiny, fulfilling an ambition forged through countless reforging of their identity since the dawn of their age.
Under the Emperor's guidance, the rebirth of the Federation ushered in a new golden age. Humanity underwent sweeping changes, socially and technologically. Ancient cultures long forgotten were revived, their heritage restored, and high-architecture monuments rebuilt to reflect humanity's newfound glory. Yet, this age came with a price—all religions, deemed obstacles to human progress, were systematically disbanded, whether by persuasion or force.
Technological advancements were equally transformative. Humanity's mastery over the material universe and the Immaterium surged forward at an unprecedented pace. With the revelation of the Golden Order, humanity's arsenal of unimaginable weapons and instruments of destruction had shattered the dominion of the Aeldari. The spoils of war—countless relics and artifacts of Aeldari craftsmanship—only accelerated their progress, pushing humanity closer to its ultimate destiny: ascension beyond even the so-called gods of the Warp.
Now, under the Emperor's unwavering guidance, humanity stood poised to transcend, their faith anchored firmly in his divine leadership.
Within the gilded halls of the Imperial Palace, in a recreation room reserved for the Solar Guardians, Captain Raias sat with a bottle of Amasec in hand, his gaze fixed on a holovid before him. The document displayed there detailed his team's next assignment—a directive that had left him surprised when he first read it.
He and his team were to protect Princess Pina, the former enemy now bearing the title of Primum Praesidium by the Emperor's decree. The assignment required not only the presence of the Solar Guardians but also the accompaniment of an assassin. Raias had not anticipated this turn of events.
"May I enter, Captain?" came the deep, familiar voice of Lieutenant Nathaniel, breaking Raias' concentration.
"Of course," Raias replied, turning off the holovid.
The metallic hiss of the blast door opening revealed Nathaniel and Lieutenant Maiya, both clad in their form-fitting skin suits. Their expressions were composed, optimism mingling with caution as they stepped into the room.
"Captain," Maiya greeted with a slight smile.
"Take a seat," Raias gestured toward the couch opposite him.
"Thank you, Captain," they said in unison, settling into the seats with practiced ease.
Raias leaned back, taking another sip of Amasec. "So, Lieutenants, what brings you here?"
"We wanted to discuss the mission, sir," Maiya said bluntly, her gaze steady.
"I assume you've both read the instructions." Raias nodded, setting down the bottle. "What are your thoughts?"
"To be honest, it's... unusual," Nathaniel began, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Princess Pina is, after all, a former enemy. The Emperor doesn't usually involve Custodians for political matters, and if it were a threat, His Majesty could erase it with a mere decree."
"Hidden motives, perhaps?" Raias pressed.
"Possibly," Nathaniel admitted with a slight shrug. "But it's hard to say for certain."
"To make it even more complicated, we'll have an assassin accompanying us," Maiya added with a weary sigh, running a hand through her hair.
The mention of an assassin made the air heavier. The Officio Assassinorum was one of the most secretive and feared organizations in the Imperium, answerable only to the Emperor and Malcador. Their agents were legends of shadow and death, capable of erasing entire worlds if deemed necessary.
"I understand your unease, Maiya," Raias said, his voice steady. "But I trust you'll find a way to adapt."
Maiya exhaled slowly, a mix of exasperation and resignation. "I'll manage, Captain."
"Speaking of assassins, I'm sure we will deal with at least one, maybe two if the situation turns dire," Nathaniel remarked, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.
"No," Raias interjected sharply, his eyes narrowing. "I don't think that's going to happen."
"You mean there would be more than that? Forgive me, Captain, but this is a Feudal World society," Maiya replied, raising an eyebrow. "I don't see any justification for the High Lords to send more."
Raias leaned forward slightly, his tone measured yet firm. "Then why construct an Ultima-class arcology for such a world? And remember, it's not just a Feudal World—it's an alternate reality. That changes everything."
Maiya furrowed her brow, her confusion deepening. "But even so, deploying more than two assassins alongside a squad of Solar Guardians just to protect a feudal princess… it feels excessive. Solar Guardians, sure. But assassins?" She trailed off, lost in thought.
"Don't worry," Raias said with a reassuring smile, his tone softening. "There's nothing to fear."
Maiya hesitated for a moment before nodding, but her body language betrayed her unease. "I think you're right..." she muttered, avoiding her teammates' eyes.
Raias studied her carefully, piecing together the fragments of her unease. "I see... you've had a bad experience with them, haven't you?" he concluded, his voice gentle but firm.
Maiya's silence was telling. She merely nodded, the light in her eyes dimming as a shadow of fear crossed her face. It was unusual for her—a woman known for her bright smile that could lighten the darkest corners.
For Raias, the sight brought back an old, buried memory, one he had carefully locked away beneath layers of mental fortitude. It was the memory of another woman, one whose smile had once been just as radiant as Maiya's. The thought brought an ache to his soul, a metaphorical wound that time had not fully healed. And in that moment, he understood the real reason Maiya was here with him—it was her request.
"Maiya," Raias said softly, his voice steady. "Look at me."
Slowly, she lifted her head, meeting his warm, steadfast gaze. There was something in his eyes—a spark of unshakable resolve—that stirred a faint glimmer of hope within her heart.
"There's nothing to worry about," he said, his voice calm yet filled with conviction. "We are His Majesty's loyal servants. Those who should fear the blades of the assassins are the ones who betray humanity and the Imperium. Look outside." He gestured toward the large window behind him.
Nathaniel and Maiya turned to gaze through the reinforced glass. Beyond, the sprawling expanse of the Imperial Palace and its surrounding grounds stretched into the horizon. Massive crowds filled every available space, cheering in celebration. Humans of every origin, alongside abhumans, Men of Stone, and even the fully synthetic Men of Iron, all stood together, their faces lit with joy and unity.
"Their smiles," Raias continued, his voice steady. "Those innocent lights must never be extinguished while we stand watch. The Solar Guardians were born in the Federation Age for this very purpose: to protect humanity from any horrors that lie ahead. If we commit ourselves fully to this duty, no assassin will ever lay a hand on us."
His words radiated transhuman charisma, a conviction that banished doubt and fear. Even Maiya, who moments ago had been burdened by her memories, felt the weight lift from her shoulders. A renewed strength filled her, reflected in the light that returned to her eyes.
"Yes, Captain," Maiya said, her voice now firm, her smile brighter than before.
Raias nodded, satisfied. He turned his attention to Nathaniel. "Your concern for your comrades is commendable, Nathaniel. Never let go of that."
"I won't, Captain," Nathaniel replied, pride evident in his tone.
Raias picked up the bottle of Amasec and poured the golden liquid into three crystal glasses on the table. "Let's enjoy this day together, shall we? This Amasec is from Macragge—my homeworld. A rare vintage. Please, help yourselves."
The Falmartian and the Japanese were directed to assemble at the inner garden gallery near the Saturnine Wall. The garden itself was vast and surprisingly exotic. Even the breeze carried a gentle, almost spiritual touch that seemed to soothe any living being.
The Japanese were the first to arrive, waiting for the others.
"I wonder how their journey went," Kuribayashi muttered aloud.
"I can't say I'm not curious. But damn, the Imperial Palace is full of surprises," Kurata remarked, grinning broadly.
"You and Itami's love for anime," Kuribayashi said sarcastically.
"Hey!" Kurata shouted in annoyance before taking a deep breath, his gaze shifting to his superior. "Still, that was the most incredible experience of our lives, right?"
"How many times in your life do you get to step into your favorite anime? Never—until now." Somehow, Itami's endless thirst for anime had been quenched by this experience. Ironically, it had also made him more focused on his work, much to the surprise of the rest of the team.
"Whatever," Kuribayashi sighed, massaging her temples to ease her growing headache.
"But I can't deny it myself—the Imperium is something else entirely. Since we set foot on Terra, my heart's been enveloped in this... perpetual warmth and contentment. But I can't figure out where it's coming from."
"I must agree with you, Sergeant Kuribayashi," Aizawa said. "I feel it, too. It's like... it rejuvenates my soul. I can't quite describe it, but I wake up feeling younger every day."
"It might have something to do with the strange energy in the palace. Anathematic power, was it?" Kurata asked, shrugging as he addressed the group.
"The power of the Emperor. That's what they call it," Itami replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Anathematic... I don't mean to offend anyone, but it sounds awfully similar to Anathema. Yet, from what we've learned about the Emperor, he's the very personification of order. Which makes me wonder... the 'archenemies' they mentioned days ago—what exactly are they?" Kurata lowered his voice, his words barely audible as he tried to keep the question within their group.
"I welcome you to this garden. I hope you're all having a pleasant morning," Alexander's voice suddenly cut through, making Kurata snap his mouth shut.
"Alexander, how many times must I thank you for your hospitality?" Aizawa said warmly, his gratitude evident as he smiled with satisfaction and joy.
"Please, think nothing of it. I'm merely performing my duty," Alexander replied with a soft, dismissive tone. "As your companions should be arriving shortly, I've taken the liberty of preparing hors d'oeuvres for all of you."
Itami seemed to notice something. "Is that French?"
"You guessed correctly, Lieutenant Itami," Alexander said jovially. "I searched through the Library Sanctus to find this archaic term. Quite amusing, if I may say."
Itami nodded in understanding. "French is indeed a beautiful language."
"Now, if you'll follow me," Alexander said, addressing the Japanese with a gentle gesture.
With the aid of the Ferrous Mind, they reached the inner garden. It had been fully decorated for breakfast, with a round table of flawless marble gloriously displayed in the center. Upon it rested pristine eating utensils and the aforementioned hors d'oeuvres, served with perfect presentation.
"I must admit, it was marvelous as always, Alexander," Aizawa said with a warm smile.
During their stay in the Imperium, they had been treated to countless luxuries and breathtaking sights, each more stunning than the last. Among these was the cuisine—describing it as "delicious" seemed woefully inadequate. The sheer complexity of flavors defied their imagination, each dish surpassing even their wildest expectations.
After several minutes, the rest of the group arrived. However, to the Japanese contingent's surprise, their Falmartian companions appeared drastically transformed.
Tuka was the first to step into view, now adorned in a regal black robe intricately embroidered with a golden Aquila. Her cheerful demeanor, however, was nowhere to be found; instead, her expression carried a somber determination that cast a heavy weight over her usual brightness.
The Saderan Princess, Pina, and her knight, Bozes, were similarly changed. Though their attire remained the same, their presence had shifted. They now stood with an unshakable resolve, their naivety replaced by a hardened will of steel.
And then there was Lelei. Her transformation was the most striking of all. Gone was her simple mage's robe, replaced by an elegant white garment adorned with crimson lines. Over her chest, she wore flawless silver breastplate armor inlaid with a ruby that gleamed like a captured fragment of a dying star. Her hair, once a uniform shade of blue, now bore streaks of crimson that seemed to mirror the vibrant lines on her robe. In her hand was a staff made of some unknown metal, faintly pulsing as if alive. For the briefest moment, the staff seemed to exude a soul-like presence, only for the unsettling sight to vanish with a blink, leaving an ordinary staff in its place.
The last to enter was Rory. At first glance, she seemed unchanged, eliciting a collective sigh of relief from the Japanese delegation. But Itami, ever observant, noticed something—a subtle crack in her facade. Rory's perfect, almost divine exterior was like a mask, and beneath it, something fragile had begun to emerge. Her smile remained as bright as ever, but her eyes told a different story, hinting at a hidden vulnerability.
"Rory, are you okay?" Itami asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Ah, Itami." Rory waved off the question with a carefree smile. "I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about."
"If you say so," Itami replied, though his gaze lingered for a moment longer before he turned to the others. "Come, join us."
With quiet nods, the group took their seats around the table. The tantalizing aroma of the hors d'oeuvres filled the air as they began their meal, savoring each bite.
As the last of the group settled in, Alexander stepped forward once more. "Since everyone is here, I shall now serve the main course." A flash of light materialized an array of dishes before them, their vibrant colors and fragrant aromas almost overwhelming. "You may eat, honored guests," he announced with a slight bow.
They obeyed, diving into the exquisite meal. Yet as the minutes passed, an unusual silence descended over the group. It was not the comfortable quiet of satisfaction, but a heavy stillness, as if an unseen weight pressed down on them all.
Itami, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. "So, uh… what do you all think of our time here?" he asked, attempting to break the silence.
"Enlightening," Lelei replied without hesitation, her stoic expression unchanged. "I've learned much—about efficient spellcasting, the nature of the universe, and even the secrets hidden within the very fabric of reality."
"It's been… unforgettable," Pina said, her voice carefully measured. "These experiences have already changed my life in ways I could never have imagined."
"I must agree with the Princess," Bozes added. Her voice trembled slightly as she continued, "Lord Malcador shared with us knowledge of the Third Galactic War. The scale of that conflict… it chills me to my core." Her hands instinctively clenched as the memory of Malcador's revelations played out in her mind.
The Japanese delegation grimaced, recalling their own exposure to the Imperium's history. The sheer magnitude of its wars was enough to leave even the most hardened among them shaken.
"For me, it is a duty," Tuka said firmly, her voice steady and resolute. "To ensure my species' survival. That is my purpose here."
Her words hung in the air, their weight undeniable. The Japanese silently acknowledged the grim reality she faced. Tuka's Elven heritage—bearing a resemblance to the long-loathed Eldar—meant that pity was the best she could hope for from the Imperium.
"I hope your efforts bear fruit, Tuka," Lelei said softly, her voice tinged with warmth.
"Thank you, Lelei," Tuka replied with a small nod of gratitude.
"Speaking of our journeys, Lelei," Aizawa interjected, his curiosity piqued. "You mentioned traveling to Prospero. What is that world like?"
At the mention of Prospero, Lelei's stoic demeanor softened, and her face lit up with a rare, radiant smile. "Prospero… it's a paradise for scholars and magicians," she began, her voice filled with awe. "The architecture is unlike anything on Terra—a manifestation of the Sea of Souls brought into the material realm. Libraries the size of cities, filled with books that could sustain the knowledge of entire nations. Structures that defy the laws of physics, standing as monuments to the impossible.
"The skies are painted in breathtaking auroras, their colors shifting endlessly, and the air hums with power—both guiding and protecting me as I explored its secrets. It's a place where the boundaries between the material and the immaterial blur, allowing the universe's deepest mysteries to reveal themselves. Truly, Prospero is a realm of infinite wonder."
Her words left the group spellbound, each of them momentarily lost in the vivid picture she had painted.
"That was... something remarkable, Lelei," Kuribayashi said, managing a wry smile.
"Of course!" Lelei beamed, her voice alight with passion. "Prospero is the best place I could ever imagine living in. It's a haven for those who seek enlightenment. Every soul on that planet is a psyker, like me. We are born with the power to destroy worlds—but my mentors taught me to see it differently. They told me that we are the future of humanity."
She paused, her expression softening as if recalling a cherished memory. "People fear what they don't understand, but fear can be conquered through learning. When I first stepped into the Sea of Souls, I made a mistake—an error that could have cost me my life. But they saved me, not because they had to, but because they saw value in me. That's when I learned about His Majesty's dream."
The room seemed to quiet further, the weight of her words lingering in the air.
"His Majesty's dream," Rory muttered, her voice low.
"The dream of our ascension," Lelei said, her tone reverent. "A dream of the Ideal Truth."
Something about Rory's eyes made them uneasy. Golden irises shimmered faintly in the dim light, an unspoken intensity radiating from her.
"Ideal Truth? You mean the Imperial Truth?" Aizawa asked, intrigued.
Rory's gaze turned toward him, piercing yet calm. "Not quite. The Imperial Truth is a tool—a guide for civilization. But the Ideal Truth is something greater. It's the opposite of the Primordial Truth, the truth of our existence."
Those familiar with the Imperial Truth could grasp parts of Rory's words, though only in fragments. For those unacquainted, her meaning was utterly lost, like trying to decipher an ancient, alien script.
"Care to explain, Rory?" Kuribayashi asked, tilting her head curiously.
Rory paused, her gaze dropping as she held her chin thoughtfully. Memories stirred within her, fragments of conversations with the Emperor about the true essence of humanity.
"Humanity was born with an instinct to survive," Rory began softly. "We built communities and cities, fortresses to shield us from the dangers of the world. But survival wasn't enough. From our desire, we created weapons, technology, and countless advancements—each a manifestation of something deeper. That desire has taken countless forms, some forgotten, others transformed into shapes we no longer recognize. But one thing remains constant: our ideals. And those ideals... they ascend, taking root in our dreams."
Her voice grew quieter, yet more profound, as if the very room bent to her presence. The group was drawn in, their full attention focused solely on her. Rory's aura radiated a nearly supernatural charisma, commanding both awe and unease.
"Dreams of humanity shift and evolve with each passing age," she continued. "But they all strive toward the same goal: to reach greater heights. The Imperium and the Imperial Truth are but instruments, tools designed to guide humanity to the pinnacle of its ideals. The Emperor of Mankind saw this. He sought to lead his species to uncover the ultimate truth about our destiny. And when the time comes, that destiny will reveal itself."
"For what purpose?" Lelei asked, her voice tentative yet curious.
Rory's gaze snapped to her, her golden eyes narrowing with intensity. "Isn't it obvious?" she said, her tone edged with fire. "To surpass those self-proclaimed gods."